


Smells Like Something I'd Forgotten

by Sportatiddy (TjLockticon)



Series: curled up, died, and now it's Rotten [2]
Category: LazyTown
Genre: Body Horror, Fae Magic, Fairy!Robbie, Hurt/Comfort, Illustrated, M/M, Robbie is tired and snarky and Done With Everything, Sportacus has no idea what he's gotten himself into, inklings of romance, psychological torment, this would be so much easier if they just talked to each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-09-19 23:55:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 53,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9466316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TjLockticon/pseuds/Sportatiddy
Summary: Something is deeply wrong in Lazytown. Sportacus senses it as soon as he arrives, and all he knows for sure is that it has something to do with the strange, lanky man who never says his name correctly.-Some elves don't know how to keep their noses out of trouble, and some things do not stay as dead as they should.





	1. Chapter 1

"You," a low, faintly accented voice snarled from behind Sportacus, "need to _leave."_

Sportacus turned away from the soccer field as the kids cleaned up their sports equipment, ready to head home for dinner and sleep, and found himself craning his neck back a bit to look into the hardened face of one Robbie Rotten (where that nickname had come from, Sportacus didn't know, but he knew it wasn't the man's last name). Robbie's face seemed unusually serious, no exaggerated squinting or bared teeth.

Also, Sportacus realized with a start that this was the first time Robbie had really ever talked to him without a disguise, and without putting on a show for the kids about how he wanted to kick Sportacus out of town. He just stared Sportacus down with unprecedented malice, and it was more than a little unsettling.

"...hello, Robbie," Sportacus said, still doing his best to put on a friendly smile despite the sudden tension he was picking up from the man.

Robbie's scowl deepened. "Quit playing nice, Sportaflop, and _listen to me._ You need to _leave._ Preferably three months ago when you first came here, but apparently it didn't get through your thick skull that you shouldn't _be_ here, so now I'm gonna make it nice and simple for you. Leave, or I will _make_ you leave, and I'm not talking about those stupid tricks I pull when the kids are around."

Sportacus's smile faltered. He felt an itch stir on the nape of his neck, and his brow furrowed as he stared up at Robbie. "What are you talking about?" He knew Robbie didn't like him, the traps and constant attempts to drive him away were testament enough to that fact... but this, this was more than just a clash of personality. Sportacus focused on Robbie's eyes, searching in the gray for an explanation, and-

-a flicker of purple. So faint he _might_ have imagined it.

Robbie dragged his hands down his face, hunch intensifying. Through his fingers, he focused a glare on Sportacus's face. "You can't _seriously_ be this dense." There was a tremble in the man's voice. Sportacus couldn't place what it meant, but it worried him.

Sportacus took a step forward. Robbie flinched, but didn't shy away just yet. "Robbie, I know you don't like me, but-"

"Oh, trust me, I'm a bit beyond _not liking you_ ," Robbie interrupted with a snarl. "Though the fact that I hate just about every inch of you isn't the _point."_

Sportacus swallowed. "What _is_ the point, then?" he asked quietly, daring to steal a glance behind at the children, who thankfully hadn't noticed Robbie's presence quite yet. He didn't want them to see Robbie like this, if he knew anything, he knew the kids liked Robbie, even if he _did_ fulfill the role of the 'villain' in their games. Seeing Robbie so mad would either frighten them, or-

He didn't want to think that maybe they'd take his side, in... whatever this was. In whatever was making Robbie so furious.

"The _point,"_ Robbie growled, hands dropping to his sides and balling into fists, "is that you are _dangerous."_

Dangerous.

 _That_ was Robbie's explanation.

Sportacus folded his arms across his chest, turning fully to face Robbie, narrowing his eyes. "Robbie, I'm not sure what I've done to offend you-"

The hands were back on the face, grinding into Robbie's temple, and that purple flicker came back for a half-second. Sportacus hesitated just enough for Robbie to take over the conversation, hissing under his breath, "Let me put this in terms you will understand, _elf."_

Sportacus's heart skipped a suddenly terrified beat.

"Lazytown was managing  _just_ _fine_ before you came here," Robbie said through grit teeth, "I had _everything_ under control, but then _you_ showed up, and brought your _elf magic,_ and now everything's going to shit."

Sportacus had never heard Robbie _swear_ before. He didn't like it, but he was too bewildered by the man's words to try and interrupt. Robbie continued tersely, "You being here is putting your precious human charges in danger, so if you actually _care_ about the well-being of anyone here, especially those kids, you will get in that stupid airship of yours and _leave_ before you do any more damage to this town. Or I will _make_ you leave, and I promise you won't leave in one piece, if it comes to that."

Robbie clamped his mouth shut after that, looming over Sportacus and staring the elf down with apparently as much hatred as he could muster. Sportacus felt his throat seize up, and heard just the faintest beginning of a warning chirp from the crystal sitting on his chest, but it stayed quiet for now, so he hoped that Robbie was restraining himself because of the kids. Sportacus hated himself for thinking of them like a defense mechanism, but right now, in the light of what Robbie was telling him, it was the only comfort he had.

"Robbie," he started slowly, " _what_ are you talking about??"

"Sportacus! We put everything away!"

Oh gods, the _kids-_

Sportacus turned around at the sound of footsteps, seeing them come racing up to his side, Stephanie at the head of the procession. All of their knees and elbows were covered in grass stains, and smiles still sat on their faces, entirely oblivious to the conversation that had been occurring just a few feet away from them.

"Can we play again tomorrow?" Ziggy asked with an excited grin. "Can we, can we?"

Sportacus hurried to find his voice. "Isn't it a school day tomorrow?"

Ziggy wilted. "...yeah?"

"Well, we can certainly play after school!"

"But school doesn't have _soccer,"_ Trixie muttered.

Sportacus smiled. "I know, but it has things like reading, and chemistry, and I know you like that! You can all meet me out here tomorrow afternoon, I'll show you some new tricks, but only if you promise not to skip school." He gave a pointed look to Trixie, and she slowly nodded along after the others.

"Bye, Sportacus!" they chorused, splitting apart and jogging to their respective homes.

Sportacus watched them leave, and turned around, only just now wondering why none of them had said hello to Robbie-

-and Robbie was just _gone_. Sportacus hadn't even heard him leave. There was a smell of machine oil and warm cotton left behind where he'd been standing, but instead of being soothing like it normally was when Robbie was around, it just clogged up Sportacus's nose, angry and festering.

It was getting late. Sportacus started walking back to his airship, too many thoughts crowding his head to bother with sprinting or flipping or showing off to no one.

So.

Robbie knew he was an elf.

That... could mean a lot of things.

Ever since their first encounter, Sportacus _knew_ Robbie had some magic, the disguises and devices were indicative of that. The man had at least a little glamour magic - not enough to permanently fool Sportacus, but the disguises always worked for a little bit - but that didn't exactly narrow down _what_ his source of magic was. Humans could learn magic, had been able to for centuries upon centuries, so Robbie may have just researched it, and happened upon the subject of elves along the way.

Of course, that wouldn't explain the disgust in his tone when he said the word.

It was the way Robbie said 'human charges' that finally drove home the realization that Robbie couldn't be _all_ human, if he was even human to begin with. It was clear he wasn't a witch or a goblin, none of them lived this far north, and none of them hated elves as much as Robbie clearly did. Sportacus briefly considered the possibility that Robbie was a fiddler, but the magic was all wrong for that, so he tossed that theory aside.

Robbie wasn't an elf. Sportacus would _know_ if he was. That didn't leave any other option, save for one.

A fairy.

But Robbie _couldn't_ be a fairy.

Could he?

Sportacus came to a halt underneath his airship. "Ladder!"

It came plopping down just beside his head. He climbed up quickly, then stopped halfway up, and stared out at the setting sun, and the forest beyond Lazytown, the one that had occupied almost as many thoughts as Robbie.

Sportacus didn't know if it was just small, or if it was just lingering magic he was sensing, but at one point or another, there _had_ been a Court in those woods. And if Robbie was a fairy, he would be _there,_ not in Lazytown, which clearly wasn't his territory, it didn't feel enough like it was _his._ Lazytown just felt...

Felt...

Sportacus's head buzzed.

Lazytown felt... _wrong._

Some days it felt like open earth, unmolested by the presence of people, or magic, and then Sportacus would almost snap awake and realize there was in fact a _town,_ but it felt so lonely and empty that it might as well have been a ghost. And the ambient magic, which _should_ have gravitated to the most powerful magic user - Sportacus, or _maybe_ Robbie - just sat still, and quiet, and sometimes it even squirmed _away._

It wouldn't _be_ like that if Robbie was a fairy. Lazytown would be in a Court's possession, were that the case, and Sportacus would either have never gotten Stephanie's invitation, or he would've been killed on arrival.

Sportacus stared at the forest, while Robbie's words swarmed in his mind.

Robbie thought he was dangerous, but he conveniently failed to elaborate on _why._

Sportacus chewed his lip.

 _If_ Robbie was a fairy - and that was a strong if - then maybe, _maybe_ the forest would have the answers that Robbie refused to provide.

And if it didn't...

Well.

One elf on his own was not enough to put an entire town in danger. Robbie might not like it, and would probably try to put a stop to it, but Sportacus couldn't leave Lazytown, not until he knew what exactly was going on.

 

* * *

 

Robbie materialized back in his house and promptly doubled over on the floor, shivering.

Gods, his shadowstepping was _awful._ More like turning into mist than shadow, and more than once he'd ended up halfway stuck through a solid object, panicking and writhing in pain before he collected his thoughts and managed to remove himself from the object and phase back to normal. With the way his head was now, he was amazed he'd made it all the way back to the grotto _without_ nearly killing himself.

Shakily, he stood up, and hobbled over to one of his workbenches, bracing himself on the wood with both hands.

He did it.

He'd talked - no, he'd _threatened_ Sportaflop. The elf. When did he start thinking in terms of names and not epithets?

Moot point.

Robbie dragged a hand through his hair, mussing it out of its product-laced perfection. Uneven bangs hanging over his eyes, Robbie stared out one of his faintly tinted windows and tried to get his heartbeat back under control.

Three months of trying to kick the elf out through glamour and the faintest hint of aggressive warding hadn't worked, and Robbie was about half an inch from losing what remained of his sanity. Looking back he didn't know _what_ it was that finally convinced him to go and tell Sportaloser to leave to his _face,_ but he was sure there was more than a little harried desperation involved.

Not to mention, if Sportaflop _had_ snapped and killed him as soon as Robbie threatened him, then Robbie wouldn't have to deal with _this_ mess anymore, and there was something of an upside to that.

...why _hadn't_ the elf reacted? Yes, he'd been confused, but that wasn't _nearly_ the response Robbie expected.

Claws, yes. Magic, maybe, depending on what Sportaflop's opinion was on using magic in front of human children.

But instead, he'd just... stood there, looking oddly baffled.

Did the elf _really_ not sense the _wrongness_ in Lazytown?

Did he not _care?_

Or - or-

Robbie shuddered.

Maybe Sportaflop _wanted_ this to happen. Maybe he came here just to make sure it happened, whatever - whatever _it_ was, Robbie still wasn't sure on the specifics. Almost as soon as the thought crossed his mind, he scowled and shoved it away. No, that was _stupid,_ everything he'd learned from Glanni and read in books insisted that elves cared about the humans they took under their wing, never mind their opinion of fairies.

So Sportaflop wouldn't _willingly_ endanger the kids he'd come to love so dearly. In fact, Robbie was counting on that affection.

He couldn't get Sportaflop out of Lazytown in a one-on-one fight. The elf would _kill_ him, squash him like a deflated basketball, string him up in the middle of town as a warning-

 _No, no._ Robbie shook his head. Elves liked their privacy, if he killed Robbie, he'd do it quietly. Maybe lay a new glamour over the town, make the citizens forget Robbie ever existed.

Robbie glanced at the tube going to the surface. He'd have to reinforce it... now that Sportaflop was aware that Robbie _knew_ he was an elf, he might decide Robbie wasn't worth keeping around to amuse the children.

Reinforce the tube, fix his drones, make another disguise or three, _maybe_ sleep-

Robbie's eyes wandered back out the window, out to the dark sewer pipes lurking outside his house.

A cold draft wafted in through the cracks in the glass, stirring around his throat.

It smelled of chlorine, and mud.

Robbie grit his teeth. He _had_ to figure out what was going on, before Sportaflop could cause more damage.

He picked up a screwdriver from the bench, grabbed a nearly-fixed drone - still covered in strange shallow cuts on one wing - and got to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woop woop! here we go again with these nerds!
> 
> oh Sportacus. you have no idea what you're in for. not even a clue.


	2. Chapter 2

A few days after Robbie _very pointedly_ told him to leave Lazytown, Sportacus did just that.

Probably not in the way Robbie would have liked, however.

He woke up earlier than usual, just before sunrise, took a quick jog around the neighborhood to double check that the occupied houses were safe, and then proceeded towards the forest on the edge of town. His backpack was stuffed full of apples, grapes, some exercise bandages, a small spyglass, two bottles of water, a yo-yo, and more apples, as many as he could fit; it was _very_ likely that he would be running for his life as soon as he entered those woods.

Wispy red sunlight crept down his neck as he approached the path. The grass started turning thicker, more like twigs, and Sportacus made haste to reach the beaten-down dirt, the soft brown that crunched beneath his feet, the _only_ safe place for an elf in a forest like this. He kept a sliver of attention on his crystal, and a part of him hoped it might start beeping _right now,_ and drag him away from this place back into town to save someone.

It just sat mutely on his chest, supplying him with no good excuse. Sucking in a deep breath, Sportacus stepped onto the path and let the forest surround him.

It took all of five minutes for him to regret every decision that had led him here. The magic that had felt faint and weak from his airship was the complete and utter _opposite_ as soon as he actually _entered_ the forest, and stood amongst trees that were far, far older than him. They seemed to swell as soon as he stepped onto the path, but he only really noticed after he'd been walking for a little while.

Their boughs stretched to block out the sky, and their roots...

...their _roots._

Sportacus halted on the path, which was probably the worst thing he could've done, but he hadn't _noticed_ until now.

The trees - the towering pines, the oaks, the birches - their collective canopy shifted in the breeze, and their trunks still stood firm and steady, but their _roots_ were horribly twisted, knots and knolls that burst from the ground and tangled together. In some places they more resembled massive brambles than roots meant to nourish and nurture, and some were sharpened at the ends, like spears, or thorns.

The underbrush around the trees reeked of something putrid. Reeked of _anguish._

Sportacus gulped and found his throat dry.

He didn't know much about fairies, and less about their magic, but this seemed too imprecise to be a Court's doing. He knew that forests learned from the magic their Courts left behind, feeding on the power of the fae and adapting it to suit their needs, to help them better defend their masters. The gnarled shapes of the roots seemed almost feral, so - so the trees-

The trees must have done it themselves.

Sportacus forced himself to walk farther down the path, each step reluctant. The deeper he went, the more he thought he could feel eyes upon him, reminding him that there was no safety for him here, no allies. No mountain stone, no crystal, no iron. Just patches of dirt that seemed to _breathe_ when the wind was strong, and trees that seemed like they were trying to pull up their own roots and _run._

If there was _any_ comfort to be gleaned from these circumstances, it was that Sportacus hadn't seen any actual fairies yet. Or anything living, that wasn't a plant. For all its seething magic, for all the groaning he could feel in the earth beneath his feet, the forest was... quiet.

There was a Court here, once, but maybe...

He wasn't really that lucky, was he?

...there was only one way to be sure.

Sportacus stopped at a curve in the path. On either side, the roots were blanketed in carpet moss, such a vivid shade of green it made his eyes hurt. About fifteen feet off the path, he could see a small clearing in the trees, free of bushes or bramble patches. Instead, the moss gave way to barren dirt, and a circle of small bonnet mushrooms.

The nape of Sportacus's neck tingled.

A fairy ring.

 _That_ would have the answer he needed. It also might kill him, if he was wrong.

Raising his hands, Sportacus faced his palms to the ground, holding his arms out at his sides. His magic was rusty from disuse, and he'd never been good at glamours to begin with - his only defense against the humans not realizing he was an elf was his hat covering his ears, after all - so he didn't even bother with defenses, the forest would eat through them in a matter of seconds. His only hope for making it out in one piece would be to surrender himself, and pray that the forest was smart enough to discern his good intentions.

But then again, elf. Maybe it wouldn't care.

 _"I am a son of sky and stone,"_ Sportacus murmured in Elvish as he hovered at the edge of the path. _"I see your trees, and I know their age, and their strength, and I know it far outweighs my own. I offer no challenge, and ask only that I may be allowed to pass."_

Sportacus squeezed his eyes near to shut, and stepped onto the moss.

Nothing happened. He kept his arms still, and breath even, and kept walking towards the ring. The roots nearest him drew back as he passed them by, receding beneath the moss and soil. Somewhere in the distance he heard a low _crack,_ like a branch falling, and a gust of wind stirred around his shoulders. Still, the ground didn't reach up to swallow him, and the canopy didn't quite close out the dawn light.

He stopped just outside the ring.

No entourage of infuriated fairies appeared out of the shadows of the trees. No roots reached up to trap him. He still didn't dare set foot _inside_ the circle, that was just common courtesy, even if there wasn't a Court here _now_ he didn't want to trespass any more than he already had. Court fairies were nostalgic, or so he'd been taught, if they came back and found their territory tainted by an _elf-_

No. No thank you.

Sportacus slowly sat down cross-legged outside the circle. "Apple," he murmured, tapping his chest. A crisp red fruit shot out from his backpack and landed in his lap. He rolled it between his palms, eyes wandering from mushroom to mushroom, his peripheral vision haunted by the tree trunks that were thicker than his whole body, and then some. All their attention was on _him,_ and he didn't blame them, but to say it was unsettling was a remarkable understatement.

He cleared his throat, wondering how exactly one was supposed to go about talking to a _fairy forest._ It wasn't as if there was training for this sort of thing, everyone just knew that elves and fairies stayed _away_ from each other, unless pressed into alliances of necessity because of a greater foe.

Which, considering the eerie magic in Lazytown-

His mind came back to the roots.

"...your Court left," he stated to the open air. "I've... gathered that much, at least."

The air in the clearing tasted suddenly stale.

"I could feel their magic, even outside the forest." Was he doing this right? How was the forest even supposed to _answer_ him, in any way he'd understand? "So they must not have left very long ago. A few years, at most. Right?"

Something groaned in the branches overhead. A small flurry of pine needles and leaves coasted down through the air, and just as Sportacus was craning his head back to look up, something small, brown, and pointy fell down and smacked him right between the eyes. He let out a short yelp as the object rolled away from him, stopping about a foot to his right.

Rubbing his forehead, Sportacus narrowed his eyes at the object as the air grew still again.

An acorn. A large one, bigger than his thumb.

Sportacus bit his lip, and glanced up at the trees again. When no more acorns came cascading out of the canopy, he warily reached out and wrapped his fingers around it. He let it sit in his palm, warm and soft and smelling like the moss at the edges of the path. Its stem was still a bit sticky with tree sap, and flecks of green dotted the otherwise perfect brown exterior.

Holding onto a healthy amount of suspicion, Sportacus asked, "Why did your Court leave you?"

At first, nothing happened again.

Then, the acorn grew warmer in his palm. So warm it _burned,_ but Sportacus couldn't throw it _away,_ in fact he couldn't move at _all._

The wind picked up again in the grove, and with it came a rumble that he felt in his veins more than heard with his ears.

_**WRONG**._

Sportacus's breath hitched in his throat. His mouth still worked, despite the paralysis in the rest of his body. "...what?" Did it mean _he_ was wrong? Was the Court still here after all? Was this just an elaborate trap, was the forest just _taunting_ him now-

The burning in his palm lessened a bit, and he saw Lazytown. Blurry, like a old coffee-stained photograph, but he _saw_ it. The buildings looked so huge, and he realized he saw looking up at doors, walls, _people,_ like he was a tiny insect scuttling on the ground, or-

Like he was tree roots.

His heartbeat started to even out again as realization came to him. The image of the town flashed, pulling back to the twisted roots he'd seen earlier.

 _ **WRONG** , _he felt the trees groan a second time.

He swallowed. "The town. _Lazytown_ is wrong. Is that what you're saying??"

The image swooped out again. Racing towards the center of town so fast it nearly made Sportacus dizzy.

It stopped at a familiar intersection, at a familiar maple.

For a third time, the acorn burned, and the trees murmured, _**WRONG.**_

"Wrong _how?_ What's so wrong that it could drive away a _Court?"_

**_RED AND BLUE AND BLACK AND GOLD._ **

The burning trailed up Sportacus's arm, and he bit his tongue to hold back a whimper, and the wind grew to a roar-

His whole body shivered, suddenly able to move again. Sportacus dropped the acorn immediately, scrambling to his feet. He wiped at the edges of his eyes as he stepped back from the fairy ring, finding traces of tears that weren't his own.

In those last words from the forest, there was such a rush of emotion... agony, and deep, bitter mourning.

All of it centered on that maple.

Sportacus steadied his breath, and lifted his hands again, bowing to the fairy ring. Even without the acorn to translate, he could feel them saying, _you are no longer welcome here._

 _"Thank you,"_ he said quickly.  _"I'm so sorry, I'll try - I'll try and fix it. If I can."_

The forest started to close in around him.

He ran back to the path and didn't stop running until he made it out of the woods.

 

* * *

 

Robbie had been dozing off, crumpled in his chair, comfortable for the first time in _weeks,_ and then-

-his speaker system dropped down, and all he heard was _footsteps._ Very _fast-moving_ footsteps. Worse still, his magic instincts flared up, and showed him the same obnoxious shade of blue that had been haunting him for _months._

Grumbling profanities under his breath, Robbie hauled himself up from the chair, cracking his back in several places in the process, and stormed over to his periscope. Pulling it down with enough force to nearly snap the cables connecting it to the speaker system, he peered into it and saw a blur of blue sprinting up the street, in the morning light that indicated it was way too gods-damn early for _any_ of this.

So the elf hadn't left town. No, instead he was running around in the _middle_ of it - why was he so _fast,_ where was he even _going-_

The elf slowed down as Robbie swung the periscope around to follow him, and now he was walking, right up to the intersection near the playground.

Near the _maple._

Robbie's blood ran cold. Not even bothering to watch any more, he ripped himself away from the periscope and bolted for the ladder up to the surface.

_That's it._

He was going to _kill_ that elf.

 

* * *

 

Sportacus circled the maple twice, sweeping his eyes over its mottled bark, its strangely bare branches, and its roots that cracked the concrete. It was still early in the morning, before the children would be awake, so there was no one around to bear witness as he slowly reached out and pressed his palm to the maple's trunk.

"I'm a friend," he assured softly. "Please, let me help."

Fairy forests were one thing to deal with. They were tricky like their masters, and many, _many_ times stronger than an elf.

A single lonely maple was another story, and it almost seemed _eager_ to give in to the presence of a magic user, not caring whether said user was a fairy or an elf. The wood seemed to melt under Sportacus's hand, warming slightly at his touch.

 _...so long,_ it croaked to him, sound traveling through his bloodstream, heart-achingly quiet.

"I spoke with the forest that made you," he said. "They miss you."

The tree keened. _I tried. I **tried.**_

"Tried what?"

The bark started to shrink away. Sportacus threw a small sliver of his magic into his hand, sending it into the tree with the words, "I want to understand. I want to help fix this town, I know _something_ is wrong with it, and the forest thinks you know what happened. Please, tell me."

It was silent, for a heartbeat. Sportacus was patient.

_...I'm so tired._

Sportacus nodded. Even he could tell; the maple was old, and had no forest, no fairies to sustain it.

He could understand its loneliness. Maybe a little _too_ well. In the back of his mind, he remembered that Robbie would understand, too, but he quickly returned his focus to the maple.

"What happened to this town? Why are there so few people? Why did the Court _leave?"_

 _I'm so tired,_ the maple whispered,  _I tried. So long, so long, I kept - I kept and I **tried** and I'm  **tired.**_

"I know, but _why?"_ Sportacus was practically pleading now. "What happened?"

_So long. I'm so tired._

"You _did_ something," Sportacus breathed, "what was it?"

_Only as she asked._

There. _There._ The first bit of useful information he'd found. Sportacus's fingers curled into the bark. "She. Who is 'she'? What did she ask you to do?"

_Keep. I **did.**_

"What did you _keep?"_

Something shifted inside the tree. It reminded Sportacus almost of his crystal. It was the same rush of feeling, of vision, of _danger._

He was no longer looking at the maple.

He was buried in the dirt _._ He could feel roots around him, in crushing darkness, and then suddenly there was a light, a garish light-

Then he wasn't underground. At least, not _in_ the ground. It was still dark, but he could hear water moving, and smell something foul, and the air clogged his throat and nose and made his eyes water.

 _I tried,_ the maple murmured. _I'm so tired._

Sportacus blinked. The sun was still in the process of rising, warm against his skin, and he felt dew under his fingers on the tree bark.

The maple's thoughts were growing too quiet.

"Please," Sportacus whispered, "you - that was the sewer, right?? What - why did you show me that? Is something down there?"

_I'm so tired. I'm sorry._

"Please! I need to know!"

 _Red and gold,_ the maple murmured, and then it fell silent. Its roots remained, and its leaves still held their color, but Sportacus felt more than just the voice disappear. He felt - he felt the _tree_ disappear. It still stood before him, gently framed in the growing light, but the magic it had held, given by the forest and the fairies, was just... gone. The tree would live, but it was dead.

All the same, it _had_ helped. A little. Sportacus had a great deal more questions than answers now, but he knew where to start looking.

He felt suddenly lightheaded as his hand fell away from the tree.

And then, his crystal started to glow.

 

* * *

 

_Red upon blue upon black upon gold._

The tired old maple had _let go_. All the way.

Red like blood. Blue like water. Black like dirt.

Gold like-

_Gold like-_

-eyes, and _teeth_ , and-

_-hunger._

__

 

Water splashed in the sewer pipe as chunks of dirt fell down. In the dark, there was a glow of red and gold, hovering perfectly still.

Then it turned and moved deeper down the tunnel.

 

* * *

 

As Sportacus staggered backwards from the maple, he heard his crystal let out a warning shriek, and he ducked out of habit, just in time to avoid an arc of purple that impacted with the tree instead, leaving a sizzling mark about the size of a basketball.

"You were supposed to _leave,_ you stupid _elf_ _!_ "

Sportacus winced at the sound of Robbie's voice. This was the _last_ thing he needed right now. Spinning around, Sportacus saw the man approaching with both hands out at his sides, and that purple flicker had transformed into a radiance that spiraled around Robbie's fingers and seethed in his eyes. Not for the first time, Sportacus counted himself lucky that no one was around this early in the morning.

"Robbie, please, let me explain, I-"

"I gave you a _chance,"_ Robbie growled, slowing down in front of Sportacus. His eyes darted to Sportacus's shoes, still covered in dirt, and then to the maple, and then up to Sportacus's face. For a moment Robbie's aggression gave way to alarm, but it corrected quickly enough as he breathed out, "You. You went to the _forest,_ didn't you?"

"Robbie-"

Another bolt of purple. Robbie was quick, but Sportacus was quicker, and this time he only needed to step to the side to avoid it. "Yes!" He exclaimed. "Yes, I went to the forest, but I needed _answers,_ and you clearly weren't in a mood for talking, so-"

"You _idiot,"_ Robbie snarled. "I - I give you a _perfectly good_ opportunity to _leave_ before either you or that stupid airship get _dismantled,_ and instead you go parlay with a goddamn _Court-"_

"The Court's _gone,_ Robbie." Sportacus _really_ didn't want to fight in the middle of town. And he certainly didn't want to hurt Robbie, there was too much he _didn't know_ and too much Robbie wasn't _telling_ him for him to be sure if Robbie was an enemy or not.

Luckily, Robbie seemed to falter, brow furrowing in confusion. "What?" he barked. "What are you - what do you mean _gone??"_

"They _left_ , Robbie. A few years ago, I think. I'm not sure when, but the trees-"

"You talked to the _trees??"_ Robbie shrieked. "How-" The purple around his hands sputtered. "And you're not _dead?"_

Robbie sounded disappointed. Sportacus tried not to take it personally. He hurried to explain, "Robbie, I _know_ there's something wrong with Lazytown, I could sense it when I first _got_ here." Robbie looked somewhere between shocked and disbelieving, but at least there weren't any more purple bolts of magic hurtling towards Sportacus's face. For the time being. "I know you can't stand me, I don't know _why,_ but it's not important right now, there's - there's something _else."_

Still no magic bolts. The purple around Robbie's eyes softened as they narrowed. He took another step towards Sportacus, closing the distance between them to about arm's length, the closest they'd ever been.

 _"What,"_ Robbie said slowly, "did they _tell_ you."

Sportacus didn't even know _where_ to begin with _that._ "I-" he fumbled.

"You have a _very_ short window of time in which I am more interested in what the forest said, and not so much interested in vaporizing your stupid mustached face," Robbie hissed, "so _start talking."_

Right. Yes. "I don't know _details,_ trees aren't good at those, but - the forest knew whatever was going on here, it had to do with this maple." He gestured out towards the now silent tree. Robbie's eyes followed his hand's motion, lingering only for a moment on the tree before returning to Sportacus. "The forest - I think it was telling me that the Court left _because_ of what's happening in Lazytown."

Robbie scoffed, but it sounded just a bit too high-pitched. The purple kept waning.

Sportacus grit his teeth. "Robbie, the trees... look, I'm an _elf,_ and even _I_ picked up on it. That forest... it's _scared_ of Lazytown."

Robbie gave him a scrutinizing glare. "...and the maple?" There was a glaze over Robbie's eyes that Sportacus couldn't decipher.

"It... it said it was tired." He chewed the inside of his mouth. "I... it felt like it'd been dying. For a while. And it... couldn't keep going anymore. Maybe me coming here had something to do with that, maybe it didn't, I _don't know._ But it showed me something, and told me - the forest and the maple told me the same thing, actually."

"And what, pray tell," Robbie muttered, "would _that_ be?"

Sportacus pursed his lips. "Does 'red and blue, black and gold' mean anything to you?" His mind raced to remember everything he'd been told by the terrified trees. "And the maple said a woman made it do something. It didn't - it didn't tell me _what,_ though."

Robbie choked. _Visibly._ All the purple faded from his hands and eyes, and he stumbled backwards with such abruptness that Sportacus stepped forward to catch him. Robbie smacked his hand away, complexion considerably paler than normal.

Sportacus's brow furrowed. "Robbie, do you-"

"No," he interrupted. "No, I don't - I don't know. I _don't."_ He glowered at Sportacus's outstretched arm. "Don't touch me, I'm not one of your _charges_."

Sportacus withdrew his hand. "The maple showed me the sewers," he said quietly. Robbie's eyes went wide. "Whatever made the Court flee, whatever is scaring the trees... whatever is making Lazytown _dangerous,_ it's down there." He watched Robbie's face carefully. Watched him bit his lower lip, watching one hand grab onto the opposite sleeve. "You... already knew that, didn't you? Or - suspected."

Robbie's glare intensified. "No," he snapped, but then after a moment grumbled, "Maybe. _I don't know."_ His arm flapped at his side aimlessly before it went up to his hair and started rubbing his temple. "Doesn't matter, you're probably lying about all this _anyway."_

Sportacus opened his mouth to protest, but as his brain reviewed the tone of Robbie's voice, he found it feeble. He bit his tongue again, letting Robbie deflect for the time being. Arguments wouldn't help anything right now.

"I'm not leaving Lazytown, Robbie," Sportacus said softly. "I want to help fix what's wrong."

Robbie snorted. "Good luck. I've been trying for _years."_

"By _yourself._ "

Another glare. Robbie's fingers were still twitching.

"I'm not leaving," Sportacus reiterated. "I know you hate me. I can - I don't _like_ it, but I can live with it, but I can't just _leave_ when I _know_ what's wrong. There is _something_ down in those tunnels." He sent a hopeful half-smile Robbie's way. "I would rather make both our lives easier and work _together,_ instead of fighting two battles at once."

Robbie didn't say anything in response, aside from a low grunt.

Sportacus's smile faded. "Just - consider it? Please?"

Another grunt, accompanied by a shrug. Robbie was now mostly looking at the ground.

"Well. Um." This was sufficiently awkward. Sportacus glanced down the street, rubbing the back of his neck. "You, ah, you know where to find me."

He quickly walked past Robbie, in the direction of his airship, leaving the man standing stiff next to the maple tree, staring off into space.

All he could think about as he walked was the sewer, and the colors red and blue and black and gold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm currently working on some art for the um *cough* sewer monster *cough* and... it is HELL. My wrist hates the amount of detail I'm putting into this. I'd probably feel better if it weren't for a Lazytown fanfic xD
> 
> Oh, our poor boys are in for a rough ride.
> 
> ...this chapter turned out longer than anticipated :P


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a sore throat. Clearly, writing this is the best cure.

The maple talked to Sportacus.

_The maple talked to Sportacus._

Robbie momentarily considered taking his small purple pincushion and swallowing it, needles included.

Oh, and it wasn't just the _maple._ It was the whole damn _forest._ The only kindness that place had ever showed Robbie was not _killing_ him, but it certainly _tried._ It tried roots and branches and forcing his family almost off the path more than once - oh, but _the blue kangaroo_ was totally fine. The trees just _loved_ Sportaflop, of course, why wouldn't they?? Not like he was an _elf_ or anything.

One of Robbie's ball-with-legs drones poked his arm. He scowled and smacked it away, and it let out a plaintive whine.

"Oh, _what?"_ he snapped. "What are _you_ complaining about? Maybe if you'd _done your job,_ we would've known about this _before_ the elf got a chance to go and talk to the damn _trees._ Sorry if I'm being a bit _dramatic_ about Sportaflop knowing just about _everything."_

It poked again.

"Stop it."

 _Poke, poke._ This time it pointed with another one of its legs, out the window to the grotto.

And the sewer.

Robbie's head sank down into his hand. He waved the drone off and grumbled, "Yes, yes, I _know."_

The drone stopped poking, finally. Robbie glared at it for another moment out of the corner of his eye before he pushed himself away from the workbench and wandered over to the window. The floor of his house felt unusually cold against his bare feet, but that didn't stop him from climbing out the hatch to the grotto, or stop him from marching over to the closest sewer tunnel.

Behind the rusted grate, all he could see down the pipe was darkness. The sound of rushing water caught his attention, and held it firm as the fingers of one hand nervously tapped his thigh.

_Red and blue and black and gold._

He hadn't - he hadn't _thought_ of that. Not in _years._ Hadn't thought of _them,_ of _her,_ of the _maple._

He'd looked everywhere _but_ the maple. He'd scoured every inch of town; the edge of the forest, the meadow where the elf's long since decayed hot air balloon still sat, mostly concealed under an old, old glamour. The crumbling tower on the hill. The playgrounds. The houses that used to hold people, before they left, fleeing nightmares that told them it wasn't _safe._

Robbie's nightmares never showed the maple. Not once. His old house was a frequent guest in his dreams, and strange alleyways... sometimes, _sometimes,_ the grotto, empty of his house and much bigger than it really was.

Never the maple.

Never those _colors._ Gray-blue, like _her_ eyes, was all he could pluck from the nightmares. Sometimes obscenely pink coats.

Elf eyes glowing in the dark. Elf claws grasping at his throat.

Never the _trees._ Never the _sewer._

Why? Why did the maple tell the _elf,_ and not him?? He'd been here _so long,_ trying to fix whatever was driving people away, whatever made the magic in the town skittish and distrusting-

-whatever chased away the _Court._

Robbie took a careful step closer to the tunnel, hand floating at his side, purple sparks gathering around his wrist.

Humans were one thing.

Courts weren't even _remotely_ in the same category.

And the elf - the elf said _she_ made the tree do something. _That,_ at least, Robbie was relatively sure the elf had made up to try and sound like he knew more than he did. There was no way the elf could know the colors if the tree hadn't told him, but-

Robbie couldn't believe she would do something that could hurt the town. That wasn't _her._

Growling, Robbie flicked his wrist, and the purple collected into spools around scattered bricks and rocks within the tunnel. They started to levitate, plugging holes in the grate, forming a barricade against the darkness, and whatever apparently lurked within. It was a weak defense, but it was only temporary - he had ideas for new devices. New weapons he could put into place around his house.

Like _hell_ he'd be working with that lying, stupid elf.

 _He_ knew there was something in the sewer now.

He could find it on his own.

 

* * *

 

"Sportacus? Is something wrong?"

He looked up, startled for a moment, having thought he was alone sitting beneath a tree at the playground. He found Stephanie leaning down to look at him, rubbing her ankle with the other foot, brow creased in a way that seemed entirely too adult, and not nearly oblivious enough for an eight year old.

Sportacus did his best impression of himself back when he _didn't_ know there was something down in Lazytown's sewers. "I'm fine, Stephanie," he lied.

She looked unconvinced. "You haven't been very active today," she observed.

"Well, it's okay to stop moving every now and again!" He said cheerfully. "Sometimes it's nice to just sit and think."

"Think about what?"

_Yesterday I found out something is wrong with Lazytown, and it probably has something to do with fairies, and the only person who might know anything about it and could help me fix it hates me for being an elf and I don't know why-_

He managed a smile. "All kinds of things."

Stephanie frowned and sat down cross-legged in front of him. "Good or bad things?"

Sportacus blinked. "...why do you think would I be thinking about _bad_ things?"

She shrugged. "I dunno. I guess you've just been weird lately. And you've got dark circles under your eyes."

...oh.

He _would,_ wouldn't he. Sleep hadn't been very agreeable with him over the last half a week.

"Sportacus," Stephanie said slowly, biting her lip, "do you ever... get bad dreams?"

Forgetting everything he'd been thinking about just a moment prior, Sportacus shifted forward, crouching before Stephanie with concern on his face. "Stephanie, why - have _you_ been getting bad dreams?"

"What? No, I was asking _you-"_

" _Stephanie,"_ Sportacus said sternly, resting a gentle hand on her arm. She wilted at the touch.

"Okay, _fine,"_ she mumbled, "I had a few nightmares over the last week. And a really bad one last night. But - I mean, I'm just a kid, but _you're_ a hero, you never look - like you've had a bad night." She gave him a scrutinizing look. "Unless Robbie does something, like when he made that weird baseball. Did Robbie do something?"

"No, Robbie didn't do anything," Sportacus assured. He was _mostly_ certain that was true. At least, he hoped that was the case. "What kind of nightmares?"

"I don't - I don't know." Stephanie fidgeted and looked at the ground. "I'm just in Lazytown. Usually at the park, or somewhere else. And I can't _breathe._ Or talk. And the air smells weird." She pursed her lips and looked up at Sportacus. "Have you had any nightmares?"

_Red, blue, black, gold._

_Dirt. Iron._

Sportacus sighed under his breath, and nodded slowly. "Yes. I have."

Stephanie breathed out slowly, almost looking relieved. "Do they... keep you awake?"

"Sometimes," Sportacus admitted.  "But do you want to know how I get rid of them?"

Stephanie nodded rapidly. Sportacus grinned - genuinely, this time - and stood up, helping Stephanie to her feet. "I go and find a quiet place to sit in the sun, or I run around in town, or I go and find my friends, and play with them until I feel better."

The little pink girl brightened. "Bessie's having a bake sale today! I think the other kids were going to go help out."

"That sounds fun!" Sportacus said. "Why don't we go see if we can help, too?"

Stephanie smiled. "Okay!" Then she squeezed his hand, and said quietly, "Thanks, Sportacus."

"You're welcome, Stephanie. I'm glad I could help."

 

* * *

 

That stupid elf was _no help at all._

Even when he was nice and far away, leaving Robbie alone and not pestering him about _fruit_ and _exercise,_ Robbie _still_ couldn't focus, because all he could think about was Sportaflop's voice, annoyingly soft and pleading for Robbie to hear him out. Practically _begging_ for Robbie to 'team up' with him, so they could - what? Play hide and seek in the sewers with some... _thing??_ Whatever it was?

And of course, it didn't help matters that Sportaflop still _confounded_ Robbie. Completely and utterly.

He'd escalated from his threats. He'd _attacked_ Sportaflop. Magic and everything. Yet, Sportaflop didn't retaliate. By all rights he should've gone right for Robbie's throat, torn him to pieces, or crept down into his house by now and destroyed it.

He shouldn't be ignoring Robbie and _consoling children about nightmares._

Robbie withdrew from the periscope and shoved it back up towards the ceiling, crossing his arms and staring at the floor. "Stupid elf," he mumbled before he stormed back down to the orange recliner in the middle of his house. Throwing himself down onto the seat, he kicked it back and resigned himself to staring at the ceiling. The sewer tunnels were barred, he'd run out of patience designing a potential new disguise that was practically _laminated_ in defensive wards... really, stalking the elf was the only thing he had left to _do,_ as sleep wasn't really an option.

Sleep led to nightmares, as the elf and Pinkie had clearly learned. Robbie had enough of a nightmare to deal with in the normal world without his brain supplying _more_ when he went to sleep.

He squirmed into the chair, one hand locating the purple blanket and clinging to it out of habit.

A cold draft seeped in through gaps in the wall as Robbie's thoughts started to drift. It smelled of mulch, and sewage, and chlorine, and cinnamon.

Robbie bit his tongue and did his best to ignore it, but put a little more magic into the house wards anyway.

 

* * *

 

"Bessie? Might I have a moment?"

She beamed at him and set a pie down on the table, batting away Stingy's nosy hand as he reached over to poke it. "Yes, Sportacus, of course!"

"In private?" he elaborated.

Bessie's brow furrowed curiously, but she wiped her hands down the front of her apron and stepped out from the table, following Sportacus away from the bake sale preparations. He walked around a corner, safely out of earshot from the children, or Milford, or anyone else who might be eavesdropping. "Now, Sportacus," Bessie said in a teasing tone, "what's all this about? It's quite scandalous to steal a lady away for a private chat."

Sportacus did his best to smile, but his thoughts were too scattered to make it convincing. "It's about Robbie."

"Oh, dear," Bessie sighed. "Did he do something?"

"No, it's, I just..." Sportacus scratched the corner of his jaw. "It occurred to me that I don't know much about him, and no one else seems to, either."

"Well, he likes to keep to himself," Bessie said. "He's always been like that."

Sportacus's brain latched onto her words, picked them over, and decided to follow with, "How long has he lived in Lazytown?"

Bessie tapped her toe thoughtfully. "...as long as I can remember, actually. Ever since I was a little girl. He was such a quiet boy back then."

Sportacus had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from gasping out of relief for _someone_ finally knowing something about Robbie. "Were you two friends when you were children?" he asked, trying not to sound desperate.

Bessie shook her head. "Well, I wouldn't say _that,_ but... we talked, sometimes. His mother..."

_Robbie's mother._

Something inside Sportacus's stomach lurched. Of course, of _course_ Robbie would've had parents... why had that never even _occurred_ to him? "His mother? Who was she? What was she like?"

The corner of Bessie's mouth tugged strangely, almost into a smile, before it dipped downwards. Her eyes didn't quite meet Sportacus's gaze. "She... she was nice." The base of Sportacus's skull tickled. "She made wonderful pies. She..." Bessie rubbed her hand over her temple, mussing slightly with her otherwise perfectly neat hairline. "She, ah... oh, dear, just give me a moment, I can't quite-"

Sportacus felt his crystal start to burn. He quickly reached out a hand and placed it on Bessie's shoulder. Immediately she relaxed, leaning into his touch and staring off into a space near Sportacus's head. Then she shook her head, and patted his hand, saying brightly, "Oh, it was such a long time ago, who can remember things that far back? She was quite a lovely lady, in any case."

"What happened to her? Does she still live in Lazytown?"

"No," Bessie said hollowly, "she moved away years ago."

"She left Robbie??"

Bessie gave him an odd look. "She - no, she would _never,_ what would give you that idea? He was waiting for her to come home."

Sportacus floundered silently in confusion, searching for some kind of response. A strange light appeared in Bessie's eyes.

No, no, not a _light-_

Something flickered.

Something _purple._

"...what do you mean?" Sportacus murmured hesitantly.

"Robbie, he was - he wanted to -" Bessie clucked her tongue, tugging a lock of hair in frustration. "He was _waiting_ for her." Bessie then glanced back over the wall at the bake sale. Only now did Sportacus notice that the children were shrieking and giggling, and Trixie was holding a pie above Ziggy's head, and he couldn't quite jump up to grab it from her. "Oh, dear," Bessie tutted, "can never leave children alone with sweets, can you? Excuse me, Sportacus."

As Bessie walked off back towards the bake stand to help the children, Sportacus felt his stomach twist. The last of his doubts slipped away, and a whole new pile of muted wariness rose to take their place.

There was no question of it now.

The haze in Bessie's eyes, that _flicker-_

Sportacus shuddered. He'd only seen it once or twice before, but - that was a telltale sign of a _D_ _eal._

Robbie had made a Deal with her.

Robbie was a _fairy_.

Sportacus wished he knew what to _do_ with this information. He couldn't exactly go and confront Robbie, there wasn't really much to ask, nor would Robbie likely feel inclined to share any details. In fact, knowing Robbie was a fairy only begged _more_ questions. There was virtually no signature fae magic in the town, certainly not of the likes Sportacus was used to encountering. And why wasn't Robbie with his Court? He'd seemed to be shocked that they'd _left..._

Had Robbie been exiled? Sportacus knew that happened, in rare cases, but - outcast fairies still acted like _fairies._

Robbie just acted like Robbie.

Sportacus heaved a sigh and followed Bessie back to the bake sale. He'd give Robbie a few more days to decide an answer to his question... if after that, Robbie still didn't show, _then_ Sportacus would go and talk to him. And if Robbie _did_ show up again, and refused Sportacus's offer of working together... he could almost hear a distantly familiar voice in the back of his head, chiding him for even _proposing_ such an idea. He ignored the voice, as best he could.

Well, if Robbie didn't want to work together, he'd find a way to work around the man's schemes to get rid of him. He'd been doing that quite successfully up until this point, even without knowing the true nature of his opponent.

One way or another - with or without Robbie's help - Sportacus was going to find out what was in those tunnels under the town.

 

* * *

 

_-light light light-_

_- **cold-**_

The water in the pipe splashed, sticking to a shroud of moss and dirt and, in some places, bare skin.

There was light, above. Pale and cold.

A distant memory of moonlight rose, and slowly recolored itself into purple.

Above, in moonlight-

-purple. And blue.

It swelled to fill the tunnel, roots and fingers clinging to ladder rungs.

_Up, up, cold, **cold, purple, blue, purple, cold.**_

**_Find. Keep._ **

_Up. Go._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Robbie is Salty ™
> 
> *cracks knuckles* AIIGHT time to get to the whumpage
> 
> Also LOOK AT THIS AMAZING ART OF ANA THAT CELEPOM DREW FOR ME :D  
> http://celepom.tumblr.com/post/156775560827/used-sportatiddys-character-ana-glaepur-as-a


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My computer's been acting up so writing hasn't been easy. These next couple chapters might be slowly updated, but I'll try to maintain a constant pace.

Not particularly to anyone's great surprise, the bake sale concluded with an epic whipped cream pie fight between Trixie and Ziggy, while Pixel formed a bunker from the folding tables, leaving Stephanie and Stingy to scramble for cover under a blanket. Bessie had the foresight to use Milford as a shield, and Sportaflop ended up out in the open to suffer the worst of the crossfire between Trixie and Ziggy.

Robbie watched the whole debacle through his periscope, smirking to himself as the elf was utterly besieged by sugar, on all sides.

Maybe the children would solve his problem for him. He eagerly pressed his eyes up to the periscope, watching as the elf tried to chase down the kids. Trixie was just about armed to the teeth with half-empty whipped cream cans. Ziggy, for his part, had two cupcakes and a spatula in his arsenal, with part of an additional cupcake stuck in his curly hair. The rest of the kids had wisely vanished, peeking out occasionally to watch the showdown.

"Trixie, please, food-"

If the elf finished that with 'for growing, not for throwing' Robbie was going to vomit.

"-shouldn't be wasted!"

Well, close enough. Robbie's speakers issued a dull thunking sound to accompany the whipped cream can that clocked Sportaflop in the side of the head as Trixie retaliated against Ziggy throwing a cupcake. This was followed by a sharp gasp from the Mayor, but the elf seemed to shrug it off, and tried to run after Trixie.

Instead, he slipped on an empty pie tin and fell with a smack onto the icing-and-cake-crumb covered ground.

Robbie cackled.

"Sportacus!" Stephanie yelped as the elf slipped. "Trixie, Ziggy, cut it out!"

Her shout seemed to invigorate the elf, because of course it did. Robbie's grin dipped into a scowl. He couldn't have just two seconds to appreciate the elf _not_ being perfect and in control of _everything,_ could he? He watched Sportaflop carefully get to his feet, his front covered in cake icing, hat askew to expose the tip of one pointed ear. None of the kids noticed before Sportaflop corrected his hat, but the sight of it made Robbie's stomach twist.

He wondered for a moment where Sportaflop's claws were. The elf clearly didn't have any sort of glamours like the _other_ one.

A fantasy of the elf being declawed wandered through Robbie's mind. If that was the case, he hoped it'd hurt.

"Ziggy, please give me the spatula," he heard Sportaflop saying calmly. With a pout, Ziggy handed it over, and started pulling the half-crushed cupcakes out of his hair. The crisis seemed to be calming, with the exception of Trixie still grinning like a madwoman, a whipped cream can in either hand as she advanced on Pixel's hiding spot. The orange-haired boy let out a shriek and sprinted towards Stephanie and Stingy.

Stingy started shrieking, too. "No! Go away! This is _my_ hiding spot!"

"She's gonna _kill me,_ Stingy, _move_!" Pixel dove under the blanket, almost shoving Stingy and Stephanie out from underneath it. Stephanie wisely moved away while the boys struggled for dominance of the hiding spot, and Trixie crept up on them just as Stingy's head poked out. In the blink of an eye, Stingy's face vanished beneath a mask of whipped cream.

She looked up at Stephanie with malicious glee. "Your turn, Pinky!"

Stephanie didn't so much as scream. She just bolted in the opposite direction, running past the mayor and Bessie and the half-collapsed bake sale sign, head twisted over her shoulder to watch as Trixie took off in hot pursuit.

Robbie wasn't looking, but he could clearly picture distress when he heard Sportaflop suddenly yell, "Stephanie, watch out!"

All that happened next was a blur that Robbie's periscope didn't quite catch. He heard another dull metallic clang, followed by a cry of pain from what he could only assume was Stephanie, and the next thing he knew, a blue-and-white mess of an elf was running over to where the pink-clad girl had fallen. It didn't take Robbie long to piece together what had transpired, between the folding chair obscured by cake icing and the girl curled up and holding her now bleeding knee.

Sportaflop was hunched over Stephanie, examining her knee with all the fuss and attentiveness her uncle usually displayed, and at that point Robbie shoved the periscope back up to the ceiling. He didn't need to see the elf being - _nice,_ that wasn't anything _new,_ and he didn't like seeing hurt kids. Elf or no, the kids were just... kids. Unfortunate bystanders. And - and he _hated_ to consider it, but if he couldn't unravel what was going on in the sewers, they could advance to being casualties.

Would the town forget them, too, if they died? Like it had with... like it had before?

He went back to the workbench covered in bolts of fabric, a sewing machine, and a half-complete sun dress that wasn't even supposed to be for a disguise, he'd just felt antsy and needed _something_ to do while he let his house wards stiffen up. It would've made his life _so_ much easier if he could actually make half-decent wards in any short amount of time, but it took _hours_ for them to fully absorb and re-purpose the magic he pooled into them.

If he was going to parade himself into a sewer looking for - what was it? a monster, maybe? - he would need _damn good wards,_ and he'd need to be patient about making them. Sitting down at the workbench, he pulled out one of his extra everyday outfits. This one lacked the stripes on the top vest, instead being embroidered with fae script, meant to bolster the wards whenever they were affixed. It was entirely experimental, but so far it seemed promising. A lot more embroidery was needed, though.

Ignoring the sounds coming through his speakers as best he could, Robbie grabbed a sewing needle and a ball of thread and got to work.

 

* * *

 

"I'm sorry," Trixie apologized meekly for the third time as Sportacus cleaned up Stephanie's knee. He clicked the button on his left armguard, fishing out a large band-aid from the pocket, sticking it over the scrape and patting it gently. Stephanie's eyes were watering, and she'd buried her face into her legs. She sat hunched over, face hidden, seemingly ignoring Trixie.

The rest of the children had busied themselves cleaning up the mess, along with Milford. Bessie had gone to fetch Stephanie a new pair of tights, as hers had been ruined by the impact when she tripped.

"Trixie, please, could you help them clean up?" Sportacus asked gently.

"But I-" Her gaze was fixed helplessly on Stephanie.

"Trixie," Sportacus murmured, " _please_. We need to clean this up before it gets dark." Milford and Bessie would have them cleaning this until it was _gone._ If they were too slow about it, if they stayed out too late, if night caught them by surprise and they were outside-

-well, he didn't know _what_ would happen, but patience and safety never hurt.

As soon as Trixie turned around, sullenly walking over to one of the messy tables, Stephanie lifted her head up and silently watched her leave. The watering in her eyes started to spill over, but she smeared a hand across her face before they could.

"Thanks, Sportacus."

He smiled and sat down in front of her, letting her inspect her knee. "You're welcome, Stephanie."

Her eyes wandered back to Trixie. "How come she never listens? It's so - ugh." Her head dropped to the top of her knees, resting more on the undamaged leg. "And we were having _fun."_

"She still apologized," Sportacus reminded. "An apology always counts for something."

"Not if she doesn't _mean_ it," Stephanie mumbled into her leg.

"I'm sure she _does_ mean it, Stephanie."

The girl shrugged. Sportacus let the topic conclude there, and got up as he saw Bessie approaching with a fresh pair of tights. He helped Stephanie to her feet, and let Bessie take her to change behind a tree, before they went back to the house. Sportacus leaned over and picked up the folding chair she'd tripped over, sticking it with a matching set and then continuing to help clean up the considerable mess.

It took about an hour and a half for everything to get as clean as it _would_ be, without the pavement being hosed down. The kids all had some measure of sugary confection stuck to their hair and faces, and Milford suggested showers for everyone as soon as they got home.

"I'll put the tables and chairs away," Sportacus offered as the kids stood around, not quite looking at any of the adults, or each other. Trixie stood apart from the boys, still sulking. "You should all head home, it's getting late."

"Okay, Sportacus," Ziggy said, speaking for the rest. Pixel and Stingy nodded quickly, and scattered, and Trixie stormed away without so much as a goodbye. Stephanie lingered for a moment longer while Bessie fussed over her, and then accompanied her uncle home after giving Sportacus a quick hug. He patted the top of her head, putting on his most convincing smile, and watched them leave until they were out of sight.

Putting away the furniture was easy enough, and he had it done before the sunset colors crept into town. As soon as they arrived, painting jagged shadows over the playground, Sportacus glanced west, to the far edge of Lazytown, and the billboard with the crudely painted cow.

He'd have to get back to his airship soon, but... Robbie had had a few days, maybe he'd be willing to talk now.

Sportacus sprang forward, vaulted off the playground wall, and sprinted across town towards Robbie's house.

 

* * *

 

Robbie's wards flashed just before he head the knock on the ladder hatch. Purple turned to blue, and he smelled something akin to freshly mowed grass, and bread just out of the oven, and - _gah._ Fruit.

His speaker system plopped down. He didn't bother going over to his periscope.

"Robbie?"

Maybe the elf would go away if he didn't answer.

Another soft _tap, tap_. "Robbie, can we talk?"

He sneered and didn't move away from his needlework. "Go away, Sportaflop. Don't you have kids to pamper?"

"It's sunset. They're at home."

...sunset? _Already?_

Robbie put down his sewing needle.

"Robbie," the elf continued, "we really should-"

"Should what?" he barked at the speakers, in lieu of being able to stare down at that elf's stupid blue eyes and stupid mustache. "We should team up? So we can take a lovely stroll through the sewers and hunt down - what, exactly? Oh, right, the maple didn't _specify,_ it just - it just gave you _colors._ Quick, grab your little spyglass, we're going to track down those nasty colors _real_ quick! That'll solve _all_ our problems!"

"Robbie, if we work together-"

"I'm not working with an _elf,"_ Robbie spat.

Sportaflop's voice went quiet. For a moment, Robbie almost dared hope that he'd given up, and left Robbie in peace, but then-

"...because you're a fae?" he heard the elf murmur.

Robbie's eyes went wide. He snapped his fingers, and his wards swarmed the surface hatch. He heard a soft yelp come through the speakers, and _oh_ , he hoped that elf had been _scalded._

It was only just barely audible, but the speaker produced a heavily accented sigh.

"...okay, Robbie."

Robbie braced himself, waiting to hear the sound of the hatch buckling inwards, waiting to see a flash of blue come backflipping out of the tube and land in the middle of his house, eyes glowing, claws bared-

-he waited for two minutes.

Nothing.

He stood slowly from his workbench, knuckles white as his hands clenched fabric. He made his way over to his periscope, daring to peer up to get a look at the hatch. Squinting through the lens, he saw the billboard caught in orange sunlight, and the crumpled metal of an old factory painted the same garish hue, and the hatch... the hatch was just how he'd left it, undamaged.

The elf was nowhere to be seen. Robbie's wards remained tense, but ebbed away from the hatch, flattening out to cover the whole house again.

Robbie still smelled baked bread and fruit. Why did the elf smell like pie, and grass, and _blue-_

He scowled and stormed back to his workbench, mumbling, "good riddance," under his breath.

 

* * *

 

His hand hurt, with every book page he thumbed through. The pain was dull, mostly in his palm, which had been pressed to the hatch... silly, in hindsight. Of course Robbie would have defenses. The searing sensation had lasted for a split second, leaving behind a throbbing ache, and a redness to Sportacus's skin. Nothing was charred, and his fingers all still had mobility, so it seemed this was a warning, not an outright attack.

A warning he'd obeyed. Robbie had made his decision, clearly.

He didn't want help.

_"Sportacus, it is 9:41. You are clearly uneasy."_

Sportacus pulled himself away from the bookshelf, tucking the only book on fairies he owned back on the shelf. The airship's calm, detached tone usually comforted him, but tonight it just grated on him. He _knew_ he should be sleeping, but - he just couldn't stop _thinking._ Robbie, the kids, the tree, the sewer... Robbie again... gods help him, why didn't Robbie make _sense?_

He was fae. That explained the hatred of Sportacus, to an extent, but any other fairy would've tried to kill Sportacus by now. Even at the maple, Robbie's magical attacks were messy and predictable. And he'd been so _furious,_ even a fairy distanced from their Court should've been able to at least _hurt_ Sportacus. So that either meant Robbie _couldn't_ hurt Sportacus, or didn't _want_ to, and he wasn't sure _which_ of those made less sense.

Lazytown didn't feel like fae territory.

But Robbie's _house..._ that was different. It made Sportacus think - _purple._ Purple, and hot cocoa, and oil, and freshly fallen snow. A menagerie of smells, all tinged different shades of purple, some edging on red, or blue. Some parts laced with the faintest hints of pink.

He wasn't the best at sensing it, but that saturation of scent and color had to be wards. So, fairy plus wards, equals a small territory, at least.

_Red and blue and black and gold._

Maybe... maybe _those_ were wards? Maybe that was what the tree was trying to tell him?

But - those colors, they weren't _Robbie._ And there was _no one else._ No one for miles and miles who had magic, certainly not the magnitudes of magic needed to coat Lazytown in such a distinct aura of muffled terror. The Court was gone, Robbie was the _only_ fae, and fae couldn't even _be_ in dreams, so where were the nightmares coming from? Fae magic didn't _make_ nightmares. Fae could only touch the conscious mind with their wards. He'd seen that with Bessie, she clearly remembered the deal, but her conscious mind couldn't put the thoughts into words.

A magic that went deep enough to be _remembered,_ but subtle enough to not be recognized _,_ or examined with care and mindful thought...

_"Sportacus, I detect your heartbeat is rising. Do you require water?"_

He waved aimlessly at the ship's interior. "No, no thank you."

 _"You require rest,"_ the ship pointed out.

He sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Yes, I know..."

_Red and blue and black and gold._

He retraced Robbie's colors and scents. There was a bit of red, but not the right kind, he didn't think. Too much purple, too much of a gradient... the way the trees spoke, each color sounded important. Four different sources of magic, maybe? Working together? Maybe the Court wasn't as gone as Sportacus thought, maybe he'd misinterpreted the trees entirely. Maybe their Court was gone, maybe overthrown by another.

But - no, it was still _wrong._ Fairies didn't _behave_ like this.

_"Sportacus."_

They took and kept, but Lazytown's citizens, or at least so he'd heard, seemed all too keen on getting _away._ A Court would try to keep its subjects, there was no point in making them leave, was there? Sportacus _thought_ he knew how fairies worked, at least enough to anticipate them, and respond to potential threats, but - times changed. His grandfathers lessons might not be so accurate anymore.

_"Sportacus."_

He tossed his hat onto his bed and ran a hand through his hair. "Yes, ship?"

_"Someone is outside."_

His heart skipped a beat. "...what?"

_"I have detected movement on the streets in town. The other citizens are asleep."_

Immediately Sportacus headed towards the door. As it flew open, he asked, "Who is it?"

_"Inconclusive. But size indicates a child."  
_

Sportacus heard this, and all but flung himself out the airship door.

 

* * *

 

In his house, Robbie felt his wards grow taught again.

Raising his head, he closed his eyes, and drank in the air.

...cinnamon and chlorine.

The air turned cold.

 

* * *

 

Sportacus rolled as he hit the ground and took off running towards the center of town, as his airship computer directed. His eyes swept over the darkened streets, finding the playgrounds empty, and most houses quietly undisturbed. He hastened towards one of Lazytown's primary intersections, leaping over a manhole cover and coming to an abrupt stop as he finally spotted a small figure wandering in the middle of the street, kicking a stone.

"Trixie!" Sportacus called out, keeping his voice low. "Trixie!"

Her head shot up to look at him. Her pigtails were even messier than usual. She froze as he jogged over, biting her lower lip. "...Sportacus," she acknowledged, looking at the ground as he came to a halt in front of her.

Sportacus knelt down to look her in the eye. "Trixie, what are you doing outside alone??"

She shrugged. "Couldn't sleep."

Sportacus let out a sigh, slowly reaching up to lay a hand on Trixie's shoulder. She flinched at first, still not looking him in the eye. "...you're still upset about this afternoon, aren't you?" he murmured.

Her hands curled at her sides. "I was just - we were _playing!_ I didn't _mean_ to get anybody hurt!"

"I understand, Trixie," Sportacus said softly, rubbing her arm to soothe her as best he could.

"But why doesn't anyone else??" she exclaimed, starting to shiver. "Ziggy does stupid stuff and no one stays mad at _him,_ it's always just me! They always think I'm _trying_ to be mean, and I'm not! And no one cares when I say sorry! How come they hate me??"

Sportacus pursed his lips. "Trixie, no one _hates_ you."

"Yeah, right," she sniffed, shivers worsening. Sportacus felt a cold autumn wind creep up his back; this was _not_ an evening for children to be outside alone.

"We can talk to them in the morning," Sportacus assured. "Right now, Trixie, we really should get you back home before you catch a cold."

"I don't _wanna_ talk to them." She narrowed her eyes at him. "...are you gonna tell my mom I sneaked out?"

"Not if you promise to come and talk to the other kids tomorrow."

Trixie frowned, but slowly, she nodded. Sportacus smiled and stood up, hand still on her shoulder, looking down the street in the direction of her house. He felt Trixie tug on his arm, and glanced down to find her staring up at him with a strange look on her face.

"What is it?" he asked.

She pointed at his chest. "Your crystal's doing something funny."

His what? His - his _crystal-_

Sportacus looked down at his chest, and a red so dark it was almost black flooded his mind, and the air felt like it was knocked from his lungs. His crystal started to wail, flashing between red, and blue, and-

Somewhere in the back of his mind he heard Trixie saying his name, over and over, but more than that - below the sound of her voice, just loud enough for his ears to pick up on it, he heard the groan of metal on concrete.

His head snapped around. His hand clamped down on Trixie's shoulder, pushing her behind his leg.

He hadn't - why _hadn't_ he been watching, this was - there it was, at the center of the intersection, the _maple._

And the manhole beside it.

The cover was dislodged, and Sportacus's crystal howled in his ears for a half a second more before it fell completely silent. It kept flashing red, and blue, and then another color joined, a black so dark it took his breath away. And then, changing so quickly it made his eyes hurt, he saw a gold so rich, so blindingly bright it felt like he was staring at the surface of the sun.

Then it all turned crimson, in a glow that emanated from the manhole-

-the _manhole-_

-Sportacus dropped to his knees, pulling Trixie into his chest. She let out a startled squawk, and before she could get a proper word in edgewise, he cupped one hand over her mouth, and the other over her eyes. Her shriek was muffled, not enough that he couldn't hear it, but... _enough._ She squirmed in his grasp, struggling against his iron grip, but he clutched her to his chest, and he _stared._

The manhole was gone. So was half the tree.

He couldn't see either, instead there was _-_

The smell hit him first.

Chlorine. Cinnamon. But more than that, he smelled the rank odor of decomposing vegetation, and rotten meat. Like a dead animal left to bake under the hot afternoon sun, its rancid stench soaked in sewer water. The reek almost made Sportacus want to vomit, and his eyes watered at the edges, and he heard Trixie whimper as the smell reached her, too. He wished there was some way he could shelter her from the smell, but making sure she couldn't _see_ it - that would have to be enough.

_Oh, gods-  
_

It was the size of a car. The concrete around the manhole lay crumbled, broken, a gaping hole streaked with slime behind it as it lurched heavily to one side, pulling the rest of its body out from the darkness. The pale moonlight struck a misshapen form, coated in a dense shroud of moss and twisted, gnarled tree roots that seemed to grow from inside the creature, then turn and dig back under its hide. Sportacus couldn't tell where it ended or began, he could only see a quivering mass of plant matter, interspersed with patches of bare skin, and-

It heaved upwards, fully emerging from the manhole.

The first limb Sportacus saw was an arm, overgrown with roots. Its fingers scraped the pavement, and on the opposite side, another arm limply tried to follow, this one tipped with hooked claws, a piece of rebar curving through its flesh just below the elbow. A third arm dropped down from the mass, with something iridescent shimmering like a fish's fin protruding from the dull grayish-brown skin.

"Sprrtacuff!" Trixie mumbled into his now feverishly sweaty palm. Her tiny hands grabbed at his fingers, trying to dislodge him. "Spurticuff, lemm' go!"

A fourth arm grew like a tumor from the hip of a leg twisted backwards, knee pointed up to the sky. A matching leg, almost normal, seemed to try and stand, shifting the creature's weight and nearly throwing it off balance. A clump of moss and roots spilled between the legs in tangled ropes, like fraying stitches, and above the limbs rose a humpbacked mound of dirt, and rocks, and shifting roots.

Atop the mound, a single shriveled, malformed wing twitched, batting at the air in a pathetic attempt at flight.

Sportacus could feel his eyes burn. He didn't dare look away, or even blink. His eyes trailed to a jagged formation of crystal on the creature's shoulder, pulsing crimson. Another coil of rebar ripped through skin around a malnourished spine, and the front of the creature looked so top heavy it stunned Sportacus that it was capable of moving at all.

And it _moved -_ gods, it was so _fast._

Trixie elbowed him in the gut, voice high-pitched and muffled. Sportacus let out a low gasp as her elbow connected with his ribs.

The creature stiffened, and its _head_ swiveled around.

Sportacus's blood froze in his veins.

Jutting out from the end of a neck formed of thick roots, its head was hidden behind a matted curtain of dark brown hair, cut through with hints of black and pale blonde. The hair parted, and fell to one side as the creature turned, exposing a pointed ear, and a single eye, glowing vivid gold. The creature's misshapen arms and legs dragged it closer to Sportacus, and he almost stood to run, but-

-its eye, three pupils, all brilliant gold, locked on him, and it _croaked._

One mouth split open on its face, where a mouth should be. Then a second, on its cheek, bared teeth that traveled all the way around to its neck. Its head shifted to the side, nostrils flaring, and the hair fell away from the other half of its face. Two more eyes, both without pupils and crammed into one shared eye socket, narrowed at Sportacus, and the croak turned into a hiss.

The crystal glowing crimson started glowing blue, and then flared incandescent gold. Black spots danced over Sportacus's vision.

The stench of chlorine and rotting blood surged towards him from the creature, forcing its way down his throat with enough potency to make him gag. Tasting bile in his throat, Sportacus gasped, mouth opening just a bit, and-

 _**.** _  
_**.** _  
**B̛̗̦̮̗̜̘̲̾̇̓̂̊̔̏͞͠L͇̱̲̲͖̇͗́̓͌͟͡ͅȖ̶̢̺̳̗̼̦͔͍̭̬̾̆̓͆͊̀̕͘E̜̹̺̦̩̗̭̳̿̿́̋̍ͅ**  
**.** _**  
.** _

Sportacus choked, and clamped his mouth shut, biting down on his tongue and drawing blood. His eyes spilled over with tears, raining down his cheek alongside beads of sweat, and a shiver wracked his whole body as the creature stared at him. His grip tightened on Trixie, and he doubled over around her, sinking down onto shaking knees, forcing himself to keep his eyes open.

The creature circled him slowly, its gaze never faltering, and Sportacus felt something ephemeral take hold of his tongue, like pincers trying to rip it from his mouth. His clenched his jaw as hard as he could, hard enough to make his ears ring. His throat, all the way down to his shoulders, felt numb, and still the creature's gaze held. Its hair fell in front of its face again, save for a single eye focused on Sportacus.

He _felt_ its growl. Felt its _colors._ They forced their way into his bloodstream, up to his tongue, coiling around his teeth and scraping against his gums. Sportacus felt a scream boil over in his throat as a sensation like a slow, slow papercut drew its way across the inside of his mouth. Every breath hiccuped in his lungs, staggering out through his nose as sweat dripped down every inch of his body.

The creature snarled. __  
.  
**.**  
**B̢̛͉͚̦̋̑͛͋̿̽̇̏̈ͅL̵̛̥͔̱͖̻̜̭̣͍̎͒̽̾́̇̑̕͝Ų̸̘̻̫̥̥͈̂͗̿̅̎̌̽̌̓̕͜͢͜E̸̮͎̠̗̟̜̍̆͋̂̈̽̽̈͌͘**  
**.**

 _No,_ Sportacus murmured weakly in his mind.  _No._

The squeezing on his tongue intensified, and moved down his throat. He felt it pull at his vocal chords, as another spiral of color tried to pry between his lips, and force his mouth open.

"Sportafuff??" Trixie mumbled. Her tone had slipped from angry to terrified.

Slowly, Sportacus eased his way off his knees, crossing his legs beneath him instead, holding Trixie in his lap.

The squeezing made its way down to his lungs, like he'd swallowed needles.

His eyelids fluttered, and he heard the creature groan.

_No. I'm not - I **won't**. I'm not. For you. To **take**._

His crystal had long since given up its wailing, and had been reduced to a dull flicker, desperately trying to stave off the heavy pulses of the crystal on the creature's back.

It stopped circling, and shuffled back towards the manhole, finally turning its head away. Its whole body shook, and it groaned again, the time longer, and louder. Trixie whined at the sound, and Sportacus somehow found the energy to rub his thumb over her cheek, still refusing to remove his hands.

He kept the creature's gaze.

It kept his.

_I am not yours.  
_

It snorted.

Sportacus's eyelids fluttered again, and the sandpaper feeling underneath his tongue, and the sensation of tweezers picking at his taste buds grew too strong-

-he blinked. He didn't know how long his eyes were closed.

When he forced them open again, the stinging papercuts in his mouth had escalated to his lower throat, and the creature was _gone._

Trixie had stopped squirming. He could still hear her hyperventilating, and it probably didn't help matters that Sportacus found himself doing the same.

The creature was gone.

The pain... wasn't.

Sportacus dropped his chin down onto Trixie's head, and didn't dare move.

The moon crept higher into the night sky, one hour passing, and then another. Every so often Trixie tried to struggle free, her pleas for Sportacus to let her go falling on deaf ears. She even resorted to kicking, elbowing, and biting the finger she could reach.

No matter what, Sportacus watched the now silent manhole, and _did not move._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sportacus and Robbie are great at this hero thing...
> 
> And again, apologies for not updating earlier than a week post the last chapter. I had planned to update on the 11th but my sister passed out at a concert and as you can guess I had quite a bit on my mind. I'm also trying to write my own book, so updates may be a bit inconsistent, but rest assured I will not give up on this fic. Hopefully you all stick with me :D


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: [receives news that Stefan Karl's cancer is basically gone and is overjoyed]
> 
> Also Me: [channels that joy into Sportacus Suffering™️️]

Stephanie dribbled a basketball down the street, skipping her way to Pixel's house. Every other skip, she took a bite out of the apple in her other hand, not really looking where she was going. The way to Pixel's house was practically muscle memory, and she would rather look at all the trees lining the street, their leaves slowly turning to autumn colors.

Autumn already, and it felt like it'd just been the start of summer... although some days, it felt like summer had stretched on and on, for a whole year. And some days, when she woke up, she couldn't tell if it was June, or August, or September. But that was usually just in the earliest parts of the morning, on the rare days she woke up before the sunrise. The feeling of muddled time always corrected itself by breakfast. Though sometimes it came back around lunch on school days, on the way to the cafeteria.

It was just one of the many things that made Lazytown weird. But a good weird. Most of the time.

The sound of footsteps hit Stephanie's right ear as she passed around a corner. Glancing down the street, she smiled brightly as Ziggy came running up to her.

"'Morning, Stephanie!" the six-year-old beamed. "Look! I lost a tooth last night!"

Stephanie bounced the basketball once more, then tucked it under her arm, and leaned down to observe Ziggy's mouth as he pointed to one of his front molars - or rather, the empty spot previously occupied by a molar. "Cool! Did you leave it out for the Tooth Fairy?"

"Yep!" Ziggy held up two quarters proudly.

Stephanie grinned. "Don't let Stingy see that. He only got _one_ quarter last time he lost a tooth."

Ziggy's eyes widened, and he quickly pocketed the quarters, pulling out a piece of taffy instead. Stephanie snorted, but didn't comment on it, and together they skipped down the remainder of the block to Pixel's house. When they reached it, they saw Stingy had beaten them, and he and Pixel were sitting out on the front step, wrestling for control of an RC car that was zipping around in circles on the sidewalk.

"Stingy, leggo! It's my turn, man!"

"No, it's _mine!"_

The car's wheels shrieked on the sidewalk, and it made a hazardous beeline for Ziggy's ankles. With an alarmed squawk, Ziggy jumped behind Stephanie, just barely avoiding a collision with the toy. It hit the curb and promptly flipped over, and only then did Stingy and Pixel stop their squabbling and notice the arrival of their two friends.

Pixel waved them over, finally wrenching the controls away from Stingy. "Hey, guys!"

Stephanie waved back, then glanced over her shoulder at the car, revving its wheels fruitlessly. "Nice driving."

"Blame Stingy. Check this out!" Pressing a button on the side of the controls, Pixel watched the car with a gloating grin, and Ziggy and Stephanie both turned just in time to see two small robotic arms, previously hidden behind the toy car's doors, extend and flip the car over. They retracted back inside, and the car squealed on the sidewalk and raced back over to Pixel's foot.

Ziggy ran over, grinning ear to ear. "Can I try, Pixel? Can I?"

"Sure, man." He handed the controls over to the younger boy, and Stingy huffed.

Stephanie looked her friends over, counted heads, then asked, "Where's Trixie? Usually she's here first."

"We haven't seen her," Stingy answered, kicking Pixel's shin as Ziggy started doing curlicues with the race car.

Pixel kicked back. Stephanie rolled her eyes at them, and looked down the street. There was no sign of Trixie.

"Should we go to the park without her?" Ziggy wondered aloud, more focused on the car, which he was now making circles around Stephanie's legs.

Stephanie shook her head, and carefully stepped out of Ziggy's makeshift corral. She walked over to sit next to Pixel, huddling her legs underneath her arms. "No, let's wait. Maybe she overslept."

Pixel gave her a dubious look. "On a Saturday?"

"It could happen," Stephanie said with a shrug. "We can wait a little bit."

Stingy sniffed. "I'll wait if I can play with the car."

"Let Ziggy have it first," Pixel said.

"But why didn't you let me use it _before_ they got here?"

"Cuz you didn't ask! You just grabbed it!"

Stephanie groaned at their fighting, folded her arms over her knees, and resigned herself to watching the street for Trixie.

 

* * *

 

After fifteen minutes of waiting, Trixie still hadn't shown. On the way to the park, they decided to stop by her house, only to have her mother tell them that she wasn't there, hadn't sat down for breakfast, and must have headed out before Mrs. Troublesby was awake. As soon as they thanked Mrs. Troublesby and left the house, Stingy said, "Maybe she's still mad about yesterday."

"What's she got to be mad about?" Pixel countered. " _She_ was the one messing around. Not our fault she got in trouble."

"Let's just check the park," Stephanie said loudly, not particularly wanting to discuss yesterday's events. What was done was done, and she'd rather just move on from it.

The kids walked down the street, Ziggy and Stephanie dribbling the basketball back and forth between each other, Stingy gloating over having finally gained control of the race car, and Pixel fiddling with one of his games, barely watching the road as they walked. They made their way towards the intersection just outside the park, Stephanie at the front, keeping half an eye out for Trixie.

She spotted the maple, rising above the wall separating the intersection and the park. Its colors were the dull red and orange of autumn, falling gently to the ground, and Stephanie's eyes followed them.

A handful of leaves fell down around the intersection manhole.

Stephanie slowed down.

...manhole. _Hole._

Its cover was missing, and it looked... bigger than normal.

A breeze stirred up almost the same time she noticed, and the temperature _plummeted._

She froze in her tracks, suddenly enough for Ziggy to smack into her. He yelped, and stepped around to her side, rubbing his nose and asking, "What is it, Stephanie? Why'd you stop?"

Stephanie frowned. The basketball rolled against her ankle, and she shivered. "Can't you feel that? It - it got cold."

Ziggy looked puzzled. "Well, yeah. It's fall. It's supposed to get cold."

"No, I don't mean-"

"Guys?" Pixel spoke up. "Am I the only one hearing that?"

Stephanie and Ziggy stopped talking. The race car whizzed past their feet, and Pixel reached over and stole it away from Stingy. As soon as the car stopped moving, an eerie silence descended on the intersection, and for a moment that was all they could hear.

Then-

-shouting.

Muffled, like through several blankets and maybe a pillow. Stephanie stood up ramrod straight, searching for the sound, and she zeroed in on the wall beside the maple tree, a little ways away from the manhole. Without so much as a word of warning to the boys, she bolted in that direction, and the closer she came to the maple, the colder the air became. She could hear the boys running to catch up to her, but she didn't bother waiting, and sprinted around the corner of the wall.

For the second time, she stopped dead, eyes bugging out of her skull.

"Sportacus?" Then- " _Trixie??"_

She almost didn't hear the boys come up behind her. All she could focus on was Lazytown's hero, sitting cross-legged on the ground about ten feet away from the maple. The realization struck Stephanie suddenly - she'd _never_ seen him so still, and she _knew_ he wasn't asleep. His eyes, previously staring at the ground, snapped over to her as soon as she saw him.

Stephanie recoiled as soon as their eyes met. There were dark circles beneath his, and they were lazily half-lidded, and reddened, like he'd been crying, or-

-he looked like Robbie, she thought. When he prowled town, grumbling about how he hadn't slept in days.

And in Sportacus's lap, wrapped up in his arms, was Trixie. Both the hero's hands were over her eyes and mouth, and she was struggling against him, shouting something incoherent that was lost in Sportacus's palm.

As soon as Stephanie got there, and the boys followed, Sportacus's arms dropped, and Trixie lunged forward out of his lap. She crawled on all-fours away from him, gasping for breath, eyes red and hair messy. The moment she saw Stephanie, she scrambled to her feet and ran towards the taller girl _._

First observation, as soon as they collided: Trixie was _hugging_ her.

Second observation: Trixie was shaking. Badly.

"I was outside," Trixie babbled into Stephanie's torso, "I - I was just, I couldn't sleep, and Sportacus found me, and he was gonna take me home, and then - and then - I don't know, he just _grabbed_ me and he wouldn't let go, he wouldn't even _tell_ me anything, and I _heard_ something, I don't know, it sounded like metal and everything got _cold_ and it smelled like garbage and Sportacus wouldn't let me go all night-"

"Trixie!" Stephanie exclaimed, grabbing the shorter girl by the shoulders. "Breathe!"

Trixie hiccuped and drew in three long, shuddering breaths, before she smeared a hand across her face and wiped away any threatening tears. "He wouldn't - he wouldn't let me _go."_ She glanced over her shoulder at Sportacus, who still hadn't gotten up, and then back at Stephanie. "He wasn't - it's not like it _hurt,_ but I wanted to go home, I think I fell asleep, but then I heard you guys talking and I tried to make him let me go, but he wouldn't until you showed up!"

Stephanie's throat felt raw.

"...why isn't he moving?" Ziggy quietly asked, huddling next to Pixel and looking more like a scared six-year-old than he ever had.

Trixie's hands flailed uselessly at her sides. "I don't know!" She didn't move more than an inch from Stephanie. "He's been like this since last night, and he hasn't told me anything, either!"

The boys exchanged alarmed looks, and Stephanie nervously stepped closer to the hero. Trixie shifted behind her, eyes fixed on Sportacus with something that looked like wariness, and the boys trailed behind, clustering around Stephanie as she went to investigate Sportacus. His eyes remained on all five of them, brow furrowed, legs crossed, and palms planted on the ground.

"...Sportacus?" Stephanie asked, biting her lip. "What - what happened?"

She heard him breathe; rhythmic, controlled.

He didn't answer. Stephanie glanced back at the boys, and Trixie, but they all seemed even more startled than she was. Steeling herself, she turned back to Sportacus and knelt down in front of him, reaching out to touch his shoulder.

The second her hand touched his skin, she flinched away.

Sportacus's skin felt freezing cold, and clammy, and drenched with sweat, like a fever. She gasped under her breath, and the look he gave her seemed - apologetic? Ashamed? And he was shaking, just like Trixie, but not quite as much. Stephanie could see beads of sweat on the side of his head, and his lips were little more than thin lines, his jaw was clenched so tightly.

"Can you tell us what happened?" she asked, voice cracking more than she would've liked.

He shook his head. Her stomach twisted, and a horrifying though occurred to her. Her mouth went dry, and she hoped she wasn't right.

"...can you talk? At all?"

Another shake, this one far more insistent, and his eyes looked anxious, which was _not_ a good thing when it came to heroes.

Just then, Ziggy nudged Stephanie, and she looked down to find him staring up at her in helpless confusion. "Maybe it's some kind of sugar meltdown?" Ziggy whispered. "Maybe he needs sportscandy."

Hearing that, Stephanie looked to the half-eaten apple in her hand, and hope fluttered in her chest. "Here, Sportacus," she said, extending her arm towards the hero. "You can have mine."

Sportacus's eyes flicked to the apple, and the hope in Stephanie's heart was squashed in an instant when he reached out and pushed her hand away, shaking his head.

There was a muffled gasp from Ziggy, Pixel, and Stingy. Stephanie looked to Trixie for any possible explanation, but the pigtailed girl looked just as baffled. Stephanie heard the boys start whispering fearfully amongst themselves, and she slowly withdrew her arm, cradling the apple in her palm, staring at Sportacus in bleak horror. His gaze dipped away, fixing on the ground, his breaths almost mechanically steady.

Stephanie turned to Stingy. He pointed at the apple, then Sportacus, then the apple again. "Why didn't he eat it? He _always_ eats them! Even when they're actually sugar!"

"I don't - I don't know." Stephanie bit her lip. "We should - we should get my uncle. Maybe he'll know how to help."

Trixie scoffed, but it was shaky, high-pitched. "Yeah, right. No offense, Pinky, but I don't think the mayor knows how to fix heroes."

Any other day, Stephanie may have bitten back with a retort, but she couldn't find it in herself to do so. Trixie was hunched over, scuffing her feet on the ground, looking at Sportacus with uncharacteristic wariness. Whatever had happened last night was still affecting her, and Stephanie knew that an argument wouldn't help. Besides, Trixie was right... she doubted her uncle would really know what to do in this situation.

"Maybe Bessie...?" Pixel proposed uncertainly.

Something tapped the ground. The kids looked over to find Sportacus, still sitting on the ground, fingers rapping against the pavement. He shook his head as soon as he had their attention, and pointed east.

In unison, their heads swiveled to look the way he pointed. There were no houses in that direction, except-

Stephanie's brow furrowed. Sportacus pointed more insistently before she cleared her throat and managed, "Robbie?"

Sportacus's arm dropped, and he nodded.

"You... you want us to get _Robbie?_ "

He nodded again, slowly.

"Robbie?" Pixel echoed. "That doesn't compute, how's he supposed to help?"

Sportacus made a noise that sounded like a strangled sigh, and shifted forward onto his knees. Before he could manage to get any further, he collapsed back down and curled into a meditative pose, fingers visibly trembling. He cocked his head in the direction of Robbie's house twice, eyes fixing listlessly on an empty space between Ziggy and Pixel's heads.

Trixie scowled. "Robbie probably _did_ this to him, you know he hates Sportacus."

As soon as she said this, Sportacus's head snapped up again, looking directly at her, with a severity in his eyes that made Trixie flinch. He shook his head again, several times in a row, breaths starting to become more rapid. He looked between every one of the kids, brow creased and nostrils flared just a little bit, and once again he pointed in the direction of Robbie's house.

And he still didn't get up, or speak.

"Guys," Ziggy said, voice barely more than a squeak, "if - if Sportacus wants us to get Robbie, shouldn't we get Robbie?"

Stephanie bit her lip again, amazed that it wasn't bleeding by now, and looked east to the edge of town.

"...yeah," she murmured, "we should."

 

* * *

 

Robbie woke up to the sound of slamming on the surface hatch.

He woke up face-down on his workbench, nearly on the verge of inhaling some loose thread that had fallen down near his face, and as he sat up at least three different vertebra in his spine cracked. The sound wasn't quite enough to drown out the banging on the hatch, and he had half a mind to just let the elf - because of course it would be the elf, wouldn't it - keep at it, the wards would chase him off eventually. Maybe.

Robbie stood up slowly, straightening and cracking the rest of his back, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth drowsily.

The banging continued, and shortly was joined by shouting, which the speaker system promptly announced.

_"Robbie! Robbie, wake up, please!"_

Robbie blinked. Wiggled a finger in his ear.

That... wasn't the elf's voice.

That wasn't even an _adult_ voice.

_"Robbie!"_

Pinky. And that other one, Trixie.

Heaving a sigh, Robbie sluggishly hauled himself over to his periscope and pressed his face up to it. As soon as it popped up above ground, the two children about-faced to ogle it, rushing forward together and cramming themselves up into its lenses.

 _"Robbie!"_ Pinky shouted, and Robbie winced at the noise. _"Good, you're awake!"_

Why did she sound so relieved about that? "Yes, astute observation, Pinky," he grumbled. "Shouldn't you two be off, I don't know, punting soccer balls at each other's faces or something? And not _bothering_ people at this godforsaken hour of the morning?"

 _"I'm sorry, Robbie, but we need your help!"_ Pinky said.

 _"Sportacus needs your help!"_ Trixie elaborated.

Robbie pulled away from the periscope.

Sportacus.

Needed _Robbie's_ help.

"...tell your hero that he missed April Fool's Day," Robbie said coldly. Trixie made a garbled noise of frustration, and Pinky _grabbed_ the periscope, shoving her face right up to the lens.

 _"It's not a joke, Robbie! Sportacus needs your help! Something-"_ She looked at Trixie, and only then did Robbie notice dark blotches under her eyes, the kind he was more used to seeing in his reflection than on the faces of kids. _"Something happened to him last night, he told us to come get you!"_

"Why don't you just feed him some _sportscandy,"_ Robbie retorted sardonically.

 _"We tried!"_ Trixie burst out. _"He refused it!"_

...the elf.

_Refused._

His precious 'sportscandy'.

Robbie swallowed. "...why'd he send you to pester _me?"_

_"We don't know! He didn't - he didn't actually tell us anything, he just - he just pointed at your house."  
_

"He didn't _tell_ you anything?"

 _"He can't... he's not talking."_ Pinky sounded scared. Terrified, even. _"He's at the maple by the park."_

Robbie felt like he'd swallowed a whole tray of ice cubes.

Last night - his wards had gone stiff, at some point last night, flashing almost iridescent in his mind's eye. It only lasted for a short while, and he'd been so exhausted he hadn't put much thought into it, since nothing had _broken_ them, or anything-

 _"Please, Robbie!"_ Pinky begged.

Robbie ground the meat of his palms into his eyes.

_Damn the maple, damn the elf, damn these nosy little-_

"Fine," he grunted. " _Fine._ I'm coming."

He heard them both sigh in obvious relief. _"Thank you, Robbie,"_ he heard Pinky say, just loud enough for the speakers to catch it.

"Yeah, whatever," he mumbled back, shoving the periscope away. He went over to his workbench and grabbed the vest he'd been working on last night; its sigils weren't completely done, but he'd affixed _some_ magic to it, so if this turned out to be an _outlandishly_ complex trap on behalf of the elf, he wouldn't be completely at Sportaflop's mercy.

Donning the vest and smoothing back his hair, Robbie snapped his fingers and called half the magic in his wards back into himself, and begrudgingly climbed up the ladder to the two children waiting for him on the surface.

_You better have a good reason for dragging me out here, Sportaflop._

_A **damn** good reason._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who asked, my sister is fine, we suspect the passing out was due to food poisoning. My other sick sister is having fun watching Clone Wars and dragging my dad into the Jedi Angst.
> 
> Oh, and speaking of angst... boy, was this chapter fun. And next chapter's gonna be even MORE fun :P


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Robbie isn't good at this 'comfort' thing...
> 
> Mild emetophobia warning.

As soon as Robbie got to the maple, he regretted just about every choice he'd ever made, especially any of the ones that could've contributed to him being _here, now,_ looking at a bunch of frantic children clustered around an elf who was very much _not_ moving, and that _shouldn't_ have worried Robbie as much as it did, but - seriously, why wasn't the elf _moving??_

Oh, and as soon as he noticed Robbie's approach, Sportaflop's eyes - sunken, blotchy, too many shades of blue all at once - lit up with pure and utter _desperation._

Robbie felt the lump in his throat get bigger. His two small escorts moved away from him, Trixie to the other kids, Pinky to the elf.

"We got him, like you asked," she told Sportaflop. He nodded slowly, flashing her a tight-lipped, yet grateful smile. Robbie just settled for a healthily suspicious scowl, as he scrutinized both the elf and the maple. Aside from the not moving, and not talking, the elf looked undamaged, more or less... the same couldn't be said for the maple, though. Aside from the scorch marks, courtesy of Robbie the other day, its roots were cracked and twisted, around a-

-manhole.

And the cover was lying about ten feet away.

Robbie blinked twice, switching to his unrefined aura sense. The tree was about as dead as a tree could be, but it still had some lingering power to it, down near its roots, but it was completely overwhelmed by something garish and turquoise, with flickering hues of silvery white. Robbie couldn't help but stare in a mix of horror and jealousy at the elf's aura as it burned around his body, in swirls and leaping sparks.

It was jagged, Robbie noticed. Jagged and imperfect, full of holes, but where it _was,_ it was _powerful._

Then Sportacus caught on to Robbie staring, and the aura dulled. Only then did Robbie notice how much his eyes were suddenly hurting. He rubbed them for a moment, as Pinky stood up and looked at him with pleading eyes.

"Can you fix him?" she asked hopefully.

Robbie's scowl deepened. "Why do you pipsqueaks think I can do anything?"

"You're smart!" Ziggy said. Pixel nodded in agreement. Trixie and Sticky - Stinky? Stingy? - didn't say much of anything, and just quietly looked between Robbie and Sportaflop.

Robbie heaved a sigh. "I'll help, on _one_ condition. You all go play one of your _sports,_ and let me work with your precious hero alone."

Pinky's eyes widened with alarm. "But-"

Robbie fixed on all of them with a carefully honed look, and measured an ounce of his magic, and let it sit on his tongue as he repeated, " _Alone."_

It didn't take much to compel children. Especially scared children. He could personally testify to that. A haze manifested over the children for a fraction of a second, and Robbie noticed Sportaflop sit up a bit straighter. Robbie maintained the half-glamour for only a heartbeat, and when he let the magic drop, Pinky pursed her lips, looked at the elf, and murmured, "...feel better, Sportacus."

The other kids chorused a similar sentiment, and slowly wandered away in the direction of the park.

Once they were out of earshot, Robbie's head snapped around towards the elf. He found a very disapproving look on his face.

"Oh, calm down," Robbie muttered, folding his arms over his chest defensively, "it's not permanent. Or did you _want_ them sticking around?"

Sportflop gave a nasal sigh, and slowly shook his head.

Robbie glanced at the maple again, then the manhole, then back to the elf. His voice came out slightly higher-pitched than he wanted when he hissed, "What the _hell_ happened?? The brats said you - you need my _help,_ and you didn't - you didn't eat your stupid fruit, and you're-" He cut himself off sharply. The elf's lips were still firmly pressed together. "You're not _talking_ ," Robbie finished dubiously.

Half of him expected the elf to leap to his feet right then and there, and laugh in that _stupid_ accent of his, but Sportaflop stayed put on the ground, and nodded along with everything Robbie said.

A faint laugh bubbled up in Robbie's throat, and he carded a hand through his gelled hair. "Oh, _perfect._ Something finally gets you to stop flipping around like a  _moron,_ and I don't even know what it _was."_

The elf's fingers tapped the ground, and he rolled onto his knees. Robbie flinched as he moved, waiting for - _something -_ but halfway through standing up, Sportaflop staggered to the left, dropping back down and hunching over in a way that made Robbie think he was going to vomit. Every one of the elf's breaths came out nasal, half-choked.

Robbie took an experimental step towards the elf, trying to coax some saliva back into his bone-dry mouth. A half-lidded baby blue eye watched him lazily as he approached, crouching down on the balls of his feet to get a closer look at the elf. Everything still seemed to be in perfect condition - hat, those ridiculous armguards, crystal still flashing-

Crystal. Flashing.

Clearing his throat, Robbie pointed at Sportaflop chest. The elf glanced down, and sighed again. His head stayed there, hanging below his shoulders as both his hands were planted on the ground, keeping him from falling prone. "Why isn't it," Robbie asked warily, "you know, 'beep-beep-beep'?"

Sportaflop shrugged. Robbie narrowed his eyes; the elf's arms shook every time he moved, and his knuckles were white, and a vein in the side of his neck was throbbing, had been since Robbie showed up. Sweat beads trailed down Sportaflop's cheeks, and what strands of his dirty blond hair were visible were sticking to his neck and forehead, wet with perspiration.

Elf or no, magic or no, that amount of detail was hard, or _impossible,_ to fake.

Robbie's Adam's apple bobbed.

"...so," he stated, " _not_ a belated April Fool's prank."

The corner of Sportaflop's mouth twitched, almost into a grin.

Robbie made an educated guess. "You... can't open your mouth, can you?"

Sportaflop shook his head, slumping back down to a sitting position in front of Robbie. Leaving one arm bracing against the ground, he pointed at the maple and the manhole, ten feet away. Robbie forced himself to look again, keenly aware of a distant buzzing in his head as he did so, and his eyes promptly locked onto the concrete around the hole, crumbled and broken like several jackhammers had started a riot.

"What is _with_ you and trees?" Robbie grumbled. "Did this one just get fed up with you?" The joke felt feeble even to _him_ \- that maple was dead and gone, it couldn't have done this to Sportaflop. It made Robbie feel a bit better, though.

Sportaflop shook his head, not seeming to catch the half-assed joke. He pointed more aggressively at the manhole, then at himself, and then towards Robbie, and then east, towards Robbie's house.

Robbie followed all these gestures and ended up bewildered. "I don't - here, just-" He reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a scrap of paper, and a piece of black chalk. He shoved both towards Sportaflop, saying, "Just write it down, I don't have time to try and play charades with _you."_

Sportaflop blinked at the chalk.

"It's not warded," Robbie admitted, mentally slapping himself. That would've been a good trap, if he'd been _thinking._ In fact, he should probably _start_ thinking of how to make the best use of Sportaflop's weird verbal malfunction...

The elf reached down and scribbled something across the paper, and pushed it towards Robbie on the ground.

"Good, _now_ we're getting-" Robbie started, but the sentence died halfway as soon as he actually _looked_ at the paper. Frowning, he flipped it around and pointed in frustration at the words. "Is this _Elvish??"_

Sportaflop leaned forward and squinted at the paper. His eyes widened.

"You - I can't _read_ Elvish, you idiot!" Robbie exclaimed, shoving the paper back. "Try again!"

After three more attempts, Robbie was sorely tempted to either get up and leave the elf to his own devices, or punch him and reap the consequences. The only change in the elf's writing was the fact that it got sloppier with every iteration, and no more legible to Robbie. A few of the letters resembled nice, normal ones, but put together with squiggles that didn't even  _look_ like letters, all it gave Robbie was a deeper hatred of the elf.

Sportaflop started trying to write a fourth time, hand shaking so badly Robbie had to reach out and  _touch_ him. "Will you quit fidgeting??" he snapped. "We're getting nowhere with this! Why'd you have to send those brats to drag me into this?? Can't you just stay out of trouble for  _one day?"_

The elf swatted Robbie's hand away and kept trying to write, this time considerably slower, and Robbie would've almost admired the fact that Sportaflop was  _capable_ of moving slowly, if it weren't for the fact that the  _rest_ of this bullshit was giving him a migraine. 

After maybe a minute and a half of writing, Sportaflop finally turned the paper around, chalk falling from his grasp as his fingers trembled. Robbie snatched the paper up and glared at it, only to find that, to his shock, there was  _legible_ writing on it. It looked like a toddler's handwriting, big and unsteady, but the words were there all the same.

_Robie hellp me_

The elf's desperation was palpable. Robbie dropped the paper and rubbed his hands down his face. "Why?" he said, throat feeling raw. "What the  _hell_ happened? Why - I  _attacked_ you  _two days_ ago! Why the hell do you-"

Sportaflop held up both his hands, crossing them over each other palms facing backwards, thumbs interlocked, fingers splayed out to the sides. He wiggled them all at once, like a-

Robbie's breath hitched in his throat.

Like a butterfly.

Yesterday. When Sportaflop - when Sportaflop came to talk to him, he  _said-_

"You  _know,"_ Robbie whispered, "you  _know_ I'm - I'm fae, and you - you  _still_ want my help??"

Sportaflop nodded so quickly that he almost knocked his hat off his head. He then pointed east again. 

Robbie shrank back, wariness finding its way through the total fog of disbelief clouding his head. "You - why do you want to go to my house??"

The elf's shoulders sagged. He gestured with both hands at himself, then very deliberately at the tree, and at Robbie, all while shaking his head.

"...charades it is," Robbie groaned. "Are you..." His tongue fumbled around the words. "Are you trying to say it's not safe here?"

Another nod. 

"Why?" Robbie asked breathlessly.

Sportaflop suddenly reached out, and grabbed Robbie's hand before Robbie could manage to pull back in time. Something like an electrical shock raced up Robbie's arm, and he recognized it all too well as  _magic,_ and his wards surged to counter it, screaming  _trap, TRAP_ inside his head, and he heard a strangled, wordless gasp from Sportaflop, but not before-

-colors. 

For a split second, the elf showed - no, the elf  _made_ him see colors.

Red, blue, black, and gold.

Sportaflop's hands fell away from Robbie, curling into his chest as Robbie's wards did as they were meant to do. Robbie stifled a smirk as he saw the fresh, singed redness of the elf's fingertips. His wards calmed down, sensing the danger had passed, for the moment. The vision Sportaflop had made him see hadn't been shaped to hurt, just to - just to  _be,_ and it faded to nothing more than a thought in a few heartbeats, no lingering magic trying to sway Robbie's mind one way or another.

Red and blue.

Black and gold.

Far across town, Robbie felt his house wards call to him, and he muttered a series of curse words under his breath. He stood up in front of Sportaflop, folded his arms over his chest, and said, "If you touch  _anything,_ I  _will_ pry your mouth open and shove sugar down your throat."

Not his best threat, but it seemed to get through to the elf, who attempted to stand alongside Robbie, but started to wobble like a drunkard before he even got up off the ground. Stomach coiling with revulsion, Robbie dulled the wards around his arms and reached down to -  _gah -_ help the elf stand, propping him up with one of his arms under Sportaflop's shoulders. 

Sportaflop swayed on his feet, all the blood rushing from his face, rendering him paler than a ghost, with the exception of a single small trickle of blood starting to drip down from his nose.

 _Just drop him, just drop him, don't **help**_ _him-_

"You better have a damn good explanation for me when this is over, Sportaflop," Robbie grumbled.

Sportaflop's eyelids fluttered, and for the first time Robbie realized the elf looked  _exhausted._

Biting down the wheedling complaints of his magic instincts, Robbie half-supported, half-dragged the elf away from the maple, and tried not to think about the cold breeze chasing his heels as they left.

 

* * *

 

Robbie smelled nice. Sportacus found that detail, and concentrated on it as much as he could afford in order to  _not_ think about the taste of bile and blood that had been sitting stale in his mouth for  _hours._

To make matters worse, his legs had cramped up from sitting so long, and walking was all but impossible... he wished he could thank Robbie, for helping him walk, for coming to help at  _all,_ for surviving as long as he had in this town, for not hating him as much as a fairy  _should._ There were so many things, and Sportacus spent most of the walk running them through his head, trying to keep his mind from wandering.

Keeping his mouth shut took just about every bit of energy he had.

He wished he could  _tell_ Robbie. Tell him - tell him about the maple, the manhole, that - that  _thing,_ that red and blue and black and gold  _monster._

But he had to - he had to keep his mouth shut. If he - if he tried to  _talk_ , if he  _gave in-_

Red and blue.

Black and gold.

Sportacus screwed his eyes shut, drove them all away, and made himself think about purple instead.

 

* * *

 

Getting a half-catatonic Sportaflop down his access chute was  _fun,_ the same kind of fun as accidentally backhanding a  _cactus,_ or stubbing one's shin on a table, or running out of soup when dealing with a sore throat. If Robbie never had to do that again, he'd be so phenomenally grateful... but that went hand in hand with never dealing with the  _elf_ again, and so far the universe had done him no favors when it came to  _that._

"Touch _anything_ , and you'll regret it," Robbie reiterated as he gingerly helped Sportaflop out of the chute. He didn't feel the need to mention the wards, he was positive the elf could already feel them. Robbie was doing his best to keep them active, but dull, so the elf wouldn't pass out, or something. So far Sportaflop seemed to be handling them well enough, but he still looked ready to collapse at a moment's notice.

The mute elf looked around Robbie's house, too-blue eyes moving around sluggishly in their sockets. He gave a shaky thumbs up after a moment of observing his surroundings.

Robbie snorted. Of course, why  _wouldn't_ the elf attempt to compliment Robbie's house. At this point he wasn't even  _surprised,_ nothing Sportaflop did made any sense, why did he expect that to change now?

"Now what...?" Robbie said, mostly to himself. He couldn't just keep the elf standing, getting him to the house was bad enough... and Robbie was  _not_ letting the elf anywhere near his recliner. His eyes swept over his room and locked onto the nearest worktable, and he started shuffling over towards its bench, hauling Sportaflop along with him. The elf was practically as limp as a sack of potatoes and put up no resistance as Robbie deposited him on the bench.

Robbie sat down opposite the elf, straddling the bench. Tapping his chin pensively, he looked over the pathetic looking hero and muttered, "Well, congratulations, you've invaded my house and gotten me mixed up in this mess. Hope you're happy."

Sportaflop lifted his hand and rubbed it under his nose, smearing half-dried blood over the skin above his lip. His other hand inched towards the work table, and Robbie almost bit out a curt reminder of the  _no touching_ rule, before he saw the elf was reaching for a scrap of paper, and a pencil. Robbie stayed perfectly still as the elf laboriously scratched out a single sloppy sentence.

_cant talk magc_

Robbie's eyes widened. He recalled the elf's aura, and his crystal, both flashing painfully bright. "...something's stopping you from talking," he acknowledged, his mind immediately going to wards. Maybe there was something around the maple that the elf triggered on accident.

Of course, the elf  _had_ to go and be confusing, because he shook his head. Robbie's brow furrowed. "Wait, so something magic  _isn't_ stopping you from talking? Then why the hell aren't you-"

The elf wrote something down. This time it was even more garbled, and barely decipherable.

_redblulstnihttrydtakmecantlettit_

"Okay,  _stop,"_ Robbie ordered, taking the pencil out of Sportaflop's hand. "Forget - forget  _what_ happened, but you better tell me later. Why did you send the kids to come get  _me?_ You're an elf, you've got magic..." Robbie weighed his next words carefully, then said lowly, "stronger magic than me, in any case. Why-" no, that was  _also_ a conversation for later, "- _how_ do you expect me to help??" He gestured at his house. "I don't imagine this place is doing you any favors."

Sportaflop shook his head and shrugged, and wiped his nose again. As soon as his hand came away, his face paled another shade, so white Robbie could almost see the blood vessels beneath his skin, and he pitched forward. Robbie's arms snapped out reflexively to stop the elf from falling onto him, but the second his hand touched Sportaflop's shoulder, and a patch of bare skin, he recoiled.

The elf was feverishly hot, yet shivering almost uncontrollably, Robbie realized with a start. He sat frozen, staring at the elf, at a loss for what to do next, as Sportaflop reached an arm across his chest and wrapped his clammy hand around Robbie's arm. He slowly took Robbie's hand off his shoulder, holding it in the air between them, and pointed at the inside of Robbie's wrist.

He pressed his finger down on the skin, and Robbie felt his veins turn to ice.

His throat felt like ice, too, as he swallowed uncertainly.

Sportaflop pointed at that same spot again.

"...so," Robbie said, a bit nervous and a bit angry, "you know where a fairy's magic points are."

Sportaflop nodded. 

Robbie wanted to pull his hand back, but forced himself to stay still, and suffer the elf's touch. "Why..." the way the elf was holding his wrist, it was so achingly familiar, did the elf  _know?_ "Why does it matter? What do they have to do with anything?"

Despite his exhaustion, Sportaflop somehow managed to pull off looking exasperated, and pointed at Robbie's wrists, and then himself.

Robbie's throat tightened.

The elf  _did_ know.

"...you want me to  _heal_ you?" he squawked. "With  _fae magic?"_

Sportaflop nodded again. 

Robbie finally pulled his hand away. "You know - you know that could  _kill_ you, right??" 

Another slow, slow nod. 

"I don't-" Robbie sputtered. "You can't be serious! I don't even know what I'd be _trying_ to heal, I don't know what's  _wrong_ with you! I'd probably make you worse or kill you and then the brats would  _never_ leave me alone - did you think this through at  _all??"_

Sportaflop reached for the pencil again. Robbie almost wanted to take it, but-

The words were slightly more understandable now, and upon reading them, Robbie wished he couldn't.

_il help_

Followed by:

_i trst you_

Now Robbie  _really_ wanted to strangle someone. Sportaflop, or himself, whichever one made him forget about this increasingly ridiculous situation faster.

Finally, he forced a laugh and flung his hands in the air.

"Well, if you die, one less problem for me." Robbie looked between both of Sportaflop's wrists. "Do you elves have magic points, too?"

Sportaflop seemed to relax, but then shuddered, and Robbie heard what sounded like a choked-off cough. The elf put his fingers up to either side of his head, massaging his temples. Robbie's stomach twisted as soon as he realized what the elf was trying to tell him, and he let out a heavy breath before reaching out and carefully placing his hands on the elf's head, thumbs against his temples. The elf moved both his hands to grip Robbie's wrists, ice-cold thumbs over top Robbie's magic points.

_Here goes nothing._

"Hold still," Robbie demanded.

Sportaflop exhaled twice out the nose, and it sounded like a weak laugh. 

 

__

_Art by[Celepom](http://celepom.tumblr.com/post/157763387007/based-off-chapter-6-of-sportatiddys-horror-fic), used with artist's permission_

 

Robbie steeled himself, and blinked twice. A torrent of pale blue and silver bombarded his eyes, and the smell of baked bread filled his nose, along with the metallic stench of blood, and sweat, and possibly some other bodily fluids he didn't care to name at the moment. He could see the fringes of his own aura, vivid purple, testing the boundaries of the elf's magic, and for every shred of curiosity Robbie felt, there were four or five much larger doses of hostility.

The elf's aura was waning. That much he could tell from the start.

Sportaflop's aura seemed to expand from around his crystal, which - oddly - had its  _own_ aura, pure silver, and barely visible. His aura was densest around his face, and at first Robbie thought it was coming from his eyes, but he quickly realized that the almost blinding light was woven in tight braids around the elf's mouth. The rest of Sportaflop's aura was all one shade of light blue, but around his mouth...

Blue, in shades spanning to the faintest periwinkle, to the most vibrant turquoise, all the way to a cobalt, laced all throughout with silver. It was heaviest around the elf's lips, and trailed all the way down his neck. With every slow breath, the aura blossomed, and on the exhale-

-on the exhale, Robbie's wards saw it.  _He_ missed it, it went by so fast, but  _they_ were always alert, and they screeched for his attention.

Worming in between the elf's aura strands was something red, such a dark hue it was almost black.

He gulped. Felt the elf's grip tighten around his wrists.

_Think, Robbie, think._

How had  _she_ taught him? First lesson; self-healing and external healing were very, very different. Self healing was easier, your wards and your magic already knew each other, knew the entire map of your body, inside and out, and could find what was wrong in a heartbeat, it just took a _lot_ of energy to fix the damage. Healing someone  _else_ took less energy, as two or more people could contribute their magic, but it was so much harder to  _find_ what was wrong, and weave your aura with theirs, and keep from  _killing_ each other in the process.

Small plus; Sportaflop was a conscious and willing participant. Healing an unconscious person for the first time would be damn near impossible.

So.

Sportaflop wasn't masking his aura, and the problem was in plain sight, more or less.

Robbie ran the symptoms over in his head. Feverish temperature. Excessive sweating. Muscle spasms, inability to walk, fatigue that might be owed to not sleeping. And of course, the elf's inability to open his mouth... though that seemed like less a symptom, and more the elf's sole attempt to save himself from whatever that red blemish was trying to do to him.

Gritting his teeth, Robbie closed his eyes, and visualized the red flicker.

His aura made a beeline for Sportaflop with predatory precision. He rubbed his thumbs counterclockwise on Sportaflop's temples, sensed the magic brimming beneath the surface of his skin, and thought with as much clipped politeness as he could muster,  _may I?_

Sportaflop shivered, and his magic flooded free. Robbie let out a sharp gasp at it crashed into his aura, and the elf's crystal started wailing.

The red appeared, squirmed over the edge of Sportaflop's jaw like some kind of phantom centipede. Robbie's wards tensed to defend him even as he snipped off a few slivers of his magic, and sent them chasing after the elf's little parasite. Sportaflop made a noise that Robbie almost dared to think was a whimper, but it turned into a choking wheeze, and Robbie watched the corner of his mouth crook upwards,  _almost_ parting to open.

Like a cut blood vessel, the red flicker  _exploded._ Crimson spread across Sportaflop's throat, and Robbie heard the elf gag.

"Shit!" Robbie snapped, before uttering a string of bastardized fae speech. The sigils on his vest began to glow.

Robbie's magic, hearing the fae words, followed the path of the red parasite and squirmed into Sportaflop's now plaintively flickering aura. A full-body shiver overcame the elf, and it was all Robbie could do to maintain a grip on his head. 

"Stop - stop  _thrashing,_ I can't  _focus,_ Sportaflop-!" Robbie almost screeched. 

The elf's nails dug into his wrists, and Robbie thought he felt them get sharper, but he couldn't  _think_ about that right now-

 _Red,_ his aura seethed,  _RED._

The purple bent around the red, and what was left of the silver rose to coil around like barbed wire, and under his breath Robbie hissed the fae word for  _crush._

Without a sound, the red vanished, overwhelmed by the force of Robbie's aura, and Sportaflop's doing whatever it could to assist.

His ears popped. He hadn't even notice the spiking pressure in the room until it was  _gone._

It was all gone. The red, the shivering, the pressure-

Sportaflop crumpled forward into Robbie, his hat slipping from his head as he pressed his face into Robbie's shoulder.

Robbie froze, feeling hot, rapid breaths against his neck.

"...Sportaflop?" he murmured nervously.

The elf shivered, and slowly pushed himself away from Robbie. His eyes had lost almost all their color, and for a horrifying moment Robbie thought that maybe it  _hadn't_ worked, maybe the red disappearing was it going  _into_ the elf.

Then Sportaflop doubled over and threw up, just barely missing Robbie's leg. All at once Robbie was hit with the stench of blood and bile. The elf kept at it for a few seconds before he was reduced to dry heaving, and he slid off the bench and ended up in a ball on the floor, shuddering next to a pile of bloody puke, a few bits of blackish, old blood still stuck to his chin.

Robbie slowly pulled his leg away from the muck, hoping the reek wouldn't trigger  _his_ gag reflex. He snapped his fingers, and the majority of the odor vanished, but he made a mental note to clean up the vomit later. For now, he carefully stepped around it, coming to sit down next to the shaking elf, who was pressing the meat of his palms into his eyes, wheezing breaths coming past bloodstained teeth. 

What was he supposed to do  _now?_

Clean up the vomit? Go and tell the kids their precious hero was... fixed?? Robbie wasn't even sure the term applied yet, the elf didn't look anywhere  _near_ fixed.

All his racing thoughts came to a grinding halt when he felt Sportaflop's hand nudge his thigh. 

"...Robbie?" the elf croaked.

Robbie stiffened. "...what?"

The elf, still lying on his side, craned his head back. His eyes - teary at the edges - found Robbie through sweat-soaked bangs.

"Thank you," Sportaflop coughed. "I couldn't - I couldn't hold out much longer. I haven't - fought magic that strong -  _ever,_ I think. Thank you."

Robbie looked at the floor. "Yeah, whatever. I probably should've just let it kill you, then I wouldn't have  _that_ to clean up," he said, gesturing at the puke.

Sportaflop let out a raspy laugh. "Sorry." He went quiet, then whispered, "It wasn't... trying to kill me."

Robbie's heart skipped at least  _three_ beats. "...after all  _that,_ you're trying to tell me you  _weren't_ actually about to die??"

The elf waved a hand weakly. "No, it... I was in trouble because I  _fought_ it, Robbie, if I'd - if I'd just let it in, I'd be - I'd be  _fine,_ but no one  _else_ would be."

"What's  _that_ supposed to mean??"

Sportaflop stuck his tongue part of the way out of his mouth, and Robbie gagged. It was still covered in blood, and now he saw why - it was coated in tiny bite marks, that looked like they came from the elf's own teeth.

"It wanted - I could  _feel_ it, Robbie, it wanted my  _voice,"_ Sportaflop whispered. "I don't - I don't know  _why,_ but I couldn't let it  _have_ that. Have  _me."_ He shuddered again. "It tried to - to take me, and it was so  _strong,_ I couldn't - I couldn't  _move._ Even after it left, I could feel it trying, I couldn't make it stop on my own." The elf mustered a feeble grimace. "...Trixie was there. I had to - I had to make sure she didn't see it."

Robbie's tongue flicked over his lips. "...see  _what?"_

Sportaflop's hand dropped down next to his head.

"Red and blue," he shivered, "black and gold." He curled into the fetal position next to Robbie's leg, and Robbie could only just barely hear him whisper, "I don't know what it is, Robbie, but it's - it's in the sewer. Under Lazytown."

The elf's voice was getting fainter. Robbie leaned to the side, narrowing his eyes at the curled-up hero.

"Hey, don't you - don't you  _dare_ , Sportaflop-" Robbie snapped, but he could already tell it was too late. 

Sportaflop was asleep on the floor of Robbie's house. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go figure I can smash out almost 5000 words in a day for a Lazytown fanfic, but I can't manage to maintain a good writing schedule for my actual novel xD
> 
> Is this the start of something more? Is Robbie finally realizing that this elf isn't as bad as the first one he met? Will this be the final straw that convinces the boys that WORKING TOGETHER MIGHT ACTUALLY HELP THEM BOTH STAY ALIVE?? Find out on the next Dragon Ball Z!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'ALL. Celepom did AMAZING artwork for chapter 6 and it's now included in said chapter and I haven't stopped giggling with joy, it's such amazing art and captures the mood of the scene PERFECTLY :D
> 
> And now, in honor of that, I should probably start being nice to Sport...

Sportacus's mouth still tasted like blood when he woke up.

Sitting up, and opening his eyes, proved more difficult than he would've expected; every limb felt like lead, as if he was on the verge of a sugar meltdown, but still coherent enough to  _try_ and move around. The first thing he noticed as he slowly shifted upwards to a sitting position was that the floor was  _absolutely freezing,_ and the air was dense with a loud buzzing sound, and smelled-

-sweet.

Candy, warm cotton.

_Robbie._

Memories came flooding back all at once, of a maple, and the ladder down to Robbie's house, and Robbie's hands - soft, soft and strong for making clothes and casting spells - pressed to either side of Sportacus's head. The  _pain_ in his throat, in between his teeth... as his vision adjusted to the low light, Sportacus experimentally cracked his jaw, moving it around and opening his mouth.

The pain was gone. More or less. He cracked his jaw again.

"About time you woke up," a voice grumbled. "Do you have _any_ idea how hard it is to fend off those brats?"

Sportacus flinched at the sound of someone talking to him, and looked up to find steel blue eyes staring him down. Robbie's legs were tucked up to his chest, like a small child in a thunderstorm, and his hair was messier than Sportacus would've expected, but then his mind flew back to yesterday, or - maybe it was still today.

He croaked, "How - how long was I out?"

Robbie's lip curled. "Ugh. There's mouthwash on the table next to you. Do  _not_ talk to me with your mouth looking like -  _that."_

Brow furrowing, Sportacus slowly turned to find a cup of bluish liquid sitting on the table. He slowly took it into his hand, sniffing it twice. It reeked like the cleaning solutions Bessie used, and like bathroom tile, and he couldn't be sure, but maybe also-

"There's no sugar in it," Robbie muttered.

Sportacus pursed his lips. "I wasn't-"

"Yeah, you were."

And he  _had_ been. Much as he didn't want to admit it, the thought that Robbie wanted him gone still had a habit of haunting his mind. Sportacus forced himself to remember yesterday again, and swished the mouthwash until he couldn't taste blood over the vaguely minty flavored liquid. Robbie watched him in silence, and above the smell of mouthwash and bile and blood, Sportacus was all too aware of Robbie's wards, bristling defensively.

Sportacus wondered if Robbie knew just how near to  _dead_ he felt. Right now, he didn't think he could've posed a threat to Robbie if he'd tried.

Spitting the mouthwash back into the cup, Sportacus slowly wiped the back of his hand over his lips. It came away bloody.

Bloody. But alive, and...  _relatively_ intact.

"...thank you, Robbie."

"You better be," Robbie sneered. "I had to clean up your puke _and_ keep those brats from breaking into my house _and_  convince myself not to shove an entire bag of sugar down your throat while you were passed out on my floor for  _six hours."_

Sportacus's eyes widened. "Six-?"

Robbie nodded. "Six." His lips pressed into thin lines, and he sat forward in the recliner, hands cupping his biceps and knuckles clenched so tight they were nearly bone white. "What the  _hell_ happened last night? I've never - you've _never_  - you weren't  _moving._ And there was something - something  _in_ your aura." For a moment, Robbie's face paled, and Sportacus was worried that he would also throw up, but instead he croaked out, "Gods help me, I went and fucked around with an elf's  _aura._ You know, my head hasn't stopped hurting since you decided to take your little nap! So you  _better_ have a good explanation for why you needed to drag me into this mess!"

Every muscle in Sportacus's body suddenly felt like stone.

_Red and blue and black and gold._

He swallowed, forcing himself to remember,  _you can speak, it's okay, it's **you** and nothing else._

"...there's something in the sewers," Sportacus said quietly. "It... came to the surface last night. Trixie was outside and I went to go take her home and we - we were by the maple. Where the kids found us this morning."

Robbie's brow furrowed. "Wait, you were there the whole  _night??"_

Sportacus grimaced. "...I couldn't  _move,_ Robbie, it - I don't know  _what_ it is, but its magic - it's stronger than me. Or you." His jaw clenched, and his hand curled into a fist, clutching the fabric of his pants. "Maybe stronger than the forest."

Robbie made a strange scoffing noise, but his eyes were wide and he was perfectly still as he stared at Sportacus from the recliner. "And what is 'it', exactly?"

Fighting back a shudder skittering up and down his spine, Sportacus closed his eyes, and for a moment he was back beside the maple, watching the monster and all its limbs circle him like a predator misplaced from the worst of his childhood nightmares. His nose still burned from the stench of the half-dead moss clinging to its shambling figure, and in the corner of his eye he still felt like he could feel it watching him, its strange eyes glowing just as brightly as the malformed red crystal on its back-

 

 

"-hey! Goddamit, elf, don't you pass out again!"

The smell of candy and the color purple and  _Robbie_ stirred Sportacus out of the memory with a shivering gasp. 

Slowly, keeping his eyes steadfastly fixed on Robbie the whole time, Sportacus described the monstrosity, leaving out as many of its worst details as he could; its smell, for one, and the way it sounded as it breathed. He counted off its disproportionate limbs, and paused for a moment when Robbie recoiled as Sportacus mentioned the single deformed wing on its back, and the rebar erupting from its strange skin.

Sportacus emphasized the hugeness of the monster, and the unbalanced way it staggered around the tree, despite how quickly its head could move. How it wrenched itself from the manhole, how the air turned cold when it arrived. 

Throughout it all, Robbie looked like he was desperately trying to morph himself into becoming part of the chair. The smell of heated cotton became pungent as Sportacus came to a close with his explanation of the monster. "It only stayed for a few minutes, I think," he said. "It disappeared after that. Probably back into the sewer."

Robbie frowned. "It just  _left??"_ he squeaked, then cleared his throat, and his voice returned to almost normal. "And you _still_ couldn't move??"

Sportacus shook his head. "I've never - I've never  _heard_ of anything like this kind of creature." He gave Robbie a curious look, and a bead of hope crawled into his throat, mixing in with the bile. "You don't - you don't happen to know what it might be?"

"Are you kidding?" Robbie muttered. "Apparently I don't even know how  _trees_ or  _elves_ really work. I've never even  _seen_ a - a  _monster_ in Lazytown." He glanced at the floor, shifting uncomfortably on the chair and tugging at the buttons on his shirt. "Well, actually, that's debatable, but not  _that_ kind of monster. But I'm not the  _hero_ who goes around in a fucking  _spaceship,"_  he said with forced sarcasm."So what the hell did it do to you??"

This was the part of the conversation Sportacus was  _least_ looking forward to. His tongue felt heavy again as he looked at the floor and said, "I... don't know."

"Well. Isn't  _that_ helpful." Robbie's mouth suddenly twisted into a deep scowl, and his eyes shot back towards Sportacus. "Wait, you didn't even know what was  _happening_ and you - you dragged me into it  _anyway??"_

The scent of sugar in the air intensified. Sportacus's crystal started to vibrate, and while a part of him felt relieved to know it was still awake and functioning, another part of him felt a spike of terror, as he saw just a tiny flash of purple around Robbie's fingers. "Robbie," Sportacus made haste to explain, "I don't - I don't know  _exactly_ what it was trying to do to me, or what it - what it  _wanted,_ but I know the way  _my_ aura works." Rubbing his shoulder uncertainly, Sportacus asked, "When you were - when you were healing me, did you - see something  _off?"_

Robbie's eyes narrowed almost to slits. "...yes," he hissed, hunched over like a feral cat. "You're blue," Robbie stated coldly. "There was something - red."

Before Robbie could make a decision in either direction - calming down, or attacking - Sportacus quickly said, "The monster, it was - I only saw its aura for a moment, but part of it was red. I think it was trying - trying to connect with my magic. Somehow. I don't know how, I don't know what kind of creatures  _do_ that, but I could - I could feel my aura changing. Without me telling it to." His hand moved up to his throat instinctively, slowing massaging the skin below his jawline. "It... hurt. All inside my mouth."

"Hurt?" Robbie echoed, slowly relaxing a little bit.

"...I've fought hostile magic a few times," Sportacus said. "Sometimes they - try to hurt you from the inside." He didn't mention that at least one of those times, the hostile party was a fae. Unseelie fae, unlike Robbie, he suspected, but fae all the same.

The corner of Robbie's eye twitched. "...it tried to get inside your aura."

"I think. I don't know why. Or even  _how._ It should've - it should've had to wear me down more, but it - it had me before I could  _see_ it, Robbie. If it weren't for you, I don't think..."

"Great," Robbie sneered as Sportacus trailed off into silence. "So there's some - some bog monster in the sewer that can incapacitate an elf. Maybe I should buy it a thank you card."

Sportacus's head snapped up in alarm. " _Robbie-"_

"Kidding. The last thing I want is to end up halfway into a coma and have  _you_ poke around in  _my_ aura."

Robbie let out a low chuckle, but Sportacus couldn't find it in himself to be amused. Sitting forward on the bench, he said with as serious a tone as he could muster at the moment, "Robbie, if I'd been  _thirty seconds_ late - Trixie was  _there._ If she'd seen it, if I hadn't been there, it-"

He watched Robbie's expression sober. "...you think it'll come back?" the fae asked grimly.

Sportacus nodded so quickly he almost cracked his neck. "The forest, the maple - they all said something was  _wrong_ with Lazytown, and people in the town have been having nightmares, even  _they_ can feel - something. Maybe the monster, maybe something else. I don't know if this is the first time that creature's come above ground, maybe it's just the first time anyone's  _seen_ it. But if it comes back again and finds someone who isn't me or you, someone who can't  _fight_ it-"

"Oh, gods," Robbie interrupted, eyes going wide. "You're seriously-"

"Robbie, if we work together, we could-"

Robbie buried his head in his hands and let out a strangled sigh. "For the last time, I'm  _not -_ I'm not working with  _you."_

Sportacus shook his head, almost getting up from the bench, brow so furrowed his head was starting to hurt again. "Robbie, this thing - it made the _Court_ leave. Neither of us can get rid of it on our own!"  _Red and blue and black and gold, red and blue and black and gold, red-_

"...yesterday," Robbie said slowly, giving Sportacus a dark glower, "you said - you said that thing the maple told you." Robbie licked his chapped lips twice and wrapped his arms around his knees. "Red and blue and black and gold."

" _Yes,"_ Sportacus breathed out, finally finding the willpower to say the words out loud. "They were - that's its aura. I think."

Robbie went silent for a long time. Sportacus counted almost a hundred shallow, forcibly steady breaths before Robbie looked at him again.

" _If,"_ Robbie stressed, "and I mean  _if_ I'm even going to - to  _consider_ \- something even  _remotely_ similar to a truce or an alliance or  _whatever_ with you... I need to know. How did you..." A vein in Robbie's temple visibly throbbed. "How did you figure out I was fae?"

Sportacus rubbed the back of his neck. "...Bessie." When Robbie's eyes widened, he hastily added, "she didn't tell me anything! She just - I know what a Deal looks like, Robbie. Between that and the disguises and the wards on your house, it - wasn't hard."

"So you - that's all it took??"

Sportacus nodded, and Robbie drew his knees even further into his chest. He narrowed his eyes slightly, chewed on the inside of his cheek and hazarded warily, "Robbie...I'm not the first elf you've ever met, am I?"

Silence, for another moment. Robbie's eyes didn't meet Sportacus's. For a moment, he almost thought he went too far, asked too much all at once-

"...no."

Sportacus's throat went dry again.

Robbie's tongue flicked over his lips. "There was... another one. When I was a kid."

Immediately Sportacus's mind flew to Stephanie, telling him the same story her uncle told her, the one that made her send the letter to Sportacus; a hero from a faraway island, with a number on his chest. A number the Mayor couldn't remember. A name everyone seemed to have forgotten, a face that faded from their minds with the passing of  _decades,_ or maybe a glamour. 

"...you lived in Lazytown, when you were a kid," Sportacus said softly. "Not - not with the Court?"

Robbie shrugged, and Sportacus felt suddenly dizzy.

A fae always lived with their court, unless-

Robbie's wards, they were-

And Robbie, he didn't - he  _couldn't -_

Sportacus stared at Robbie with wide eyes.

"...you're half-fairy," he whispered.

Robbie's head shot up. "What??" he snapped.

"You're half-fairy, aren't you?" Sportacus repeated, straightening up on the bench. "That's - that's why your wards-"

"What's  _wrong_ with my wards??" Robbie snarled, a bit high-pitched.

Sportacus carefully weighed his next words. "They...  _you_ would've killed me, if you were a full fairy. The first day I set foot in Lazytown, you would've killed me." The edge of his mouth twitched, almost into a smile, but it didn't quite make it. "I couldn't - I couldn't figure out why you  _didn't._ Your mother-" She must've been the one, the full fairy, she must've been the reason the town  _felt_ like it did, even when Robbie didn't have the power to make it  _belong_ to a fairy-

_"Stop."_

Sportacus clamped his mouth shut before he could get another word out. The air crackled with the smell of burnt sugar.

"You don't-" Robbie snarled, sitting forward in his recliner, "you don't know _anything_ about her."

The edges of Robbie's aura turned just the faintest hint golden.

Sportacus's heart skipped a beat.

"...it was her, wasn't it?"

Robbie's eyes narrowed at Sportacus. "...I  _said_ you don't know anything. Just leave it. She doesn't - she doesn't matter now."

Sportacus shook his head. "Robbie - she's the one who woke the maple, wasn't she??"

More silence.

"Robbie,  _please."_

"Fine!" Robbie snapped, throwing his hands up in the air. "She woke the damn tree! Happy?"

Sportacus's brow furrowed. "Why? Why did she - what happened to her, Robbie?"

"Why do you  _care?"_

 _Because **you** care- _"The maple has something to do with what's happening  _now,_ Robbie."

Robbie scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest. "What do you  _think_ happened,  _elf?"_

Sportacus looked away, feeling something that might have been shame well up in his chest, making his mouth taste bitter again. "...the elf. Robbie, what did they - what did they do?"

"The same thing I thought all you numbered heroes were supposed to do," Robbie snarled under his breath.

"...which was?" Sportacus dared to ask, not sure if he wanted Robbie to elaborate.

"Hunting criminals. Or  _fae._ Or both." Robbie huddled deeper into the chair. "Not - play with kids and preach about  _vegetables,_ although he did do that for a few days. He at least had the decency to not  _backflip_ everywhere."

Sportacus's brow knit in confusion. "...criminals?"

Robbie shot Sportacus a piercing glower, and the smell of sugar and  _purple_ almost reached Sportacus's nose yet again, but the room stayed only as tense as it'd been since he'd woken up, and Robbie issued a muffled sigh and dropped his head down onto his knees. Sportacus watched in silence for a minute, listening to Robbie breathe, and patiently - nervously - waited until Robbie lifted his head again.

"Yeah, Glanni. My uncle, I guess," Robbie muttered sullenly. The name hooked into Sportacus's mind for a moment, but he forced himself to listen to Robbie instead. "He was... like me. Part fae, part human. He pissed off a lot of people when he was alive, including an elf. My - my mother and I got dragged into his mess and the elf followed them here and I don't know  _what_ happened but they're gone and whatever that - that  _thing_ is, I think it -  _might_ have been made by my mother." He gripped the arm of the recliner so hard his knuckles turned white. Still regarding Sportacus with utmost wariness, he said, "Her... aura was gold. And fairies - they wake things. Sometimes. Courts wake their trees. My mother - she had wisps, and Glanni, maybe shadows??" Robbie carded his fingers through his hair, shaking, as his voice turned hollow. "She - that night - they were  _gone,_ and the maple-"

Sportacus quietly, carefully, interrupted, "Do you... think she woke something?" 

Robbie's face scrunched, and he looked so painfully similar to a small child it made Sportacus's heart ache to see it. The man's features hardened all too quickly, and Sportacus was quite clearly reminded of how much Robbie  _wasn't_ a child - and he couldn't bring himself to imagine what life was like back when he  _was._ Fae children weren't supposed to  _be_ near elves, just like elf children were never supposed to be near Courts.

"Maybe??" Robbie grated out. "She didn't - I didn't think she  _could."_

Sportacus quirked an eyebrow at Robbie. "...she was full fae, wasn't she?"

Robbie waved a dismissive hand. "Yes, full Seelie, what does it matter??"

 _Seelie._ Well, that was a small comfort, at least. "...she would've been stronger than you, wouldn't she?"

"Yes, your  _point?"_ Robbie snapped. 

Sportacus held up his hands, shrinking back on the bench. "I don't mean - I just - what do you mean you didn't think she could do it? You were - the other day you seemed surprised. About the maple?"

Robbie averted his gaze yet again. "She _couldn't."_ Robbie's voice dropped into a snarl that sent chills down Sportacus's spine. "The elf made  _sure_ of that."

"What are you-"

"Ever taken an fairy's _wings_ , Sportaflop?" Robbie hissed, and the temperature in the house plummeted. Leaning forward sharply in his chair, his eyes bored into Sportacus with all the fine-tuned intensity of a surgical scalpel. "You've run into fae before, haven't you? Ever tried to take their wings?!"

Sportacus recoiled, almost falling of the bench. His mouth flapped open uselessly for a moment before he managed a strangled, "Robbie, I wouldn't - no! Of course I haven't  _taken -_ no elf in their right mind would take a fae's  _wings!"_ Did Robbie - after everything, did Robbie really think he would  _do_ something like that?? Was he scared of Sportacus taking  _his_ wings? Why would he even  _think-_

 _-_ an elf wouldn't-

_Oh gods, please, no-_

"Robbie, did..." Sportacus could barely find his voice, and it came out barely louder than a breath. "Did the elf...?" He couldn't even  _say_ the words. 

It was almost mechanical, the way Robbie nodded, and Sportacus shuddered.

"Robbie, I'm so sorry-"

"Oh, don't you  _dare_ patronize me," Robbie growled. 

"I'm not-!"

" _Save it,"_ Robbie hissed defensively. "I'm _really_ not in the mood to listen to your misplaced sympathy. It's done. She's gone, Glanni's gone, the elf's gone, they're all dead and gone and whatever's left of her was in that fucking tree, which is now  _also_ gone and dead, conveniently at the same time a  _sewer monster_ decides to show up and terrorize kids in the streets. So don't bother  _apologizing_ for Íþróttal-whatever-his-name-was and just -  _don't."_

Sportacus's crystal  _screamed,_ in a way only he could hear, in a way he'd taught it to do a long time ago, when he had to concentrate on other things and couldn't always be keeping a  _watch_ on - on  _other_ people, and he needed  _some_ other way to track them, some way to eavesdrop on names when he wasn't  _listening-_

He was so, so very distantly aware of Robbie staring at him strangely, as his breath hitched in his chest, and the blood ran cold in his veins.

_"Keep practicing, Lítillblá, I want to actually **lose** a race when I get back!"_

It came crashing back like the feeling of the monster prying into his aura last night.

_Glanni._

He hadn't even realized they might be the  _same-_

"...gods, I'm sorry, Robbie," Sportacus said hollowly, not daring to look Robbie in the eye.

"Oh, what did I  _just_ say??" Robbie squawked.

Clearing his throat, head still swimming, Sportacus managed, "Robbie, I won't-"  _how could it be **this** town why didn't I  **know-**_ "I wont ask again, about what happened... that night."

Robbie sat up a little straighter in the chair, frown lessening a bit, and becoming more puzzled instead, and Sportacus continued, "You don't - you don't have to tell me what happened. Just - just help me  _fix_ it.  _Please._ I know I can't - I can't fight this thing on my own, and to be honest I don't think you can either." Robbie scoffed at that, but Sportacus ignored him. "Just for now, Robbie. Help me just for now, just so we can make Lazytown safe again."

"No one's safe with  _you_ flippity-flopping all over the damn place," Robbie muttered sourly.

"Robbie,  _please,"_ Sportacus whispered.

Robbie pursed his lips, leveling Sportacus with a narrow look. After a painfully quiet moment, he let out a long, exasperated sigh.

" _Fine."_ He crossed his arms over his chest and slouched back in the chair, and he finally looked like  _Robbie_ again. "Just this time. Just for this -  _thing._ But if you spring  _any_ more surprises on me like this morning-"

"I'll try to avoid it," Sportacus feebly assured.  _He was here he was **here** he found them and he - Níu what did you  **do-**_ "No more surprises."

Robbie huffed. "Good. Now please, if you would be so kind as to  _get out of my house._ Go reassure those brats that you aren't  _dead."_

Trying not to let Robbie see how badly his arms and legs were shaking, Sportacus slowly stood up from the bench, leaning down to collect his hat from the ground. Adjusting it back onto his head, he sucked in a deep breath, and let his aura swell a little bit, just enough so that as he left, Robbie's wards outside his house wouldn't  _sting_ as badly as they did when he wasn't being careful.

As he walked towards the ladder to the surface, Sportacus felt Robbie's eyes on his back. At the chute, he stopped, turned, and quietly offered, "Robbie... if you need me, send a letter."

_I'm so sorry I didn't know sooner Robbie no wonder you hate me-_

Robbie made a noncommittal noise and shooed Sportacus towards the chute.

"Thank you," Sportacus breathed, probably too softly for Robbie to hear it, before crawling into the ladder chute and making his way out of Robbie's house.

All the way up, the chute felt like it was pressing down around him, threatening to pick apart his aura just like the monster from the tree had done, and the purple color on the edges of his vision had never seemed quite so terrifying until that moment.

 

* * *

 

After the elf was gone, Robbie immediately threw himself at a workbench, almost feverishly searching for  _some_ kind of distraction, anything to take his mind off the conversation he'd just had with Sportaflop, anything to keep his hands busy even as they ached from using so much magic to save his - his  _enemy._

Or was it... was it ally, now? Was that what they were?

Allied with an elf.

For the first time, Robbie was glad that his mother and Glanni weren't around anymore.

He could almost imagine them chiding him, his mother's level, disappointed tone;  _Robbie, you don't need him._

And Glanni, probably after a fit of laughter;  _ditch the elf, you can do this on your own._

_You can find it on your own, you know this town, better than he ever could, and it knows you back._

_You don't need him._

_You don't need him._

_You'll be fine on your own, you'll be fine, just come find us-_

Robbie flinched, accidentally pricking his thumb on a needle, and glanced out the dark window.

What had he - he  _knew_ he was just thinking a moment ago, why couldn't he remember-

Stress. Stress and fatigue, that was it. He could hear the house wards chattering, and his personal ones joined in, and he shut them out as best he could. He didn't need their thoughts crowding his head, too. That damn elf's voice was doing a great job of that already.

_"If you need me, send a letter."_

Send a letter to the  _elf?_

As _if_. They were allies, not - not  _friends._ Robbie didn't 'need' the elf. The town just - the town just needed the both of them, for the moment. That was all.

Robbie looked away from the window and fished a band-aid out of a box and wrapped it around his thumb.

Out in the sewer, behind a rusting grate, a pair of mismatched golden eyes blinked once at the purple house, and crept away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ON THIS EPISODE OF DRAGONBALL Z: LOCAL IDIOTS FINALLY DECIDE TO WORK TOGETHER, THOUGH IT'S ANYONE'S GUESS AS TO HOW WELL THAT TURNS OUT FOR THEM IN THE LONG RUN
> 
> I'm so sorry for such a belated update... a lovely combo of power outage, blizzards, colds, and bronchitis beset my household. Not to mention writing my current fantasy novel tends to get in the way of other works. Further updates may end up being on a similar schedule, but with any luck, I'll be able to maintain it better and post chapters with more frequency. I just need to get my inspiration back. Trust me, I'm not abandoning this. 
> 
> Additional note: Queen City Kamikaze was amazing and I went as Glanni because of course I did :D no one recognized me, but at one point during a costume contest a guy with a trumpet walked backwards off the stage playing "We Are Number One" and the audience lost their minds


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something a little bit different with this update...

Their dreams were black as mud.

And then, all at once, there was sky blue.

It came from somewhere in the long-forgotten above, a place recalled in flashes, glimpses pierced with gold and black - boxes glowing in the night, cracked streets silent as the dead, and an old, old maple, standing sentinel. Farther still, a forest even older - and something within, something whose dreams they could hear. The dreaming stopped, after a time, when the Others moved on.

They were left behind, in darkness, dirt inside torn lungs, and roots coiled around an unnatural body.

But then-

-the  _blue._

The blue called and it woke them and they couldn't breathe.

They could only remember things that must have once been memories, but it was so very far from  _enough._

_**...what is our name?**  
_

The memories tried to help them, but-

.  
.  
Ģ̸͚͓͚͔̇͊͆̿͊̂̉͌ļ̧̝̜̤̙̳̙̦̂͂́̔̓̔͆͘͟͞͡l̛̤̩͎̣͗͛̿͌́̽͞ͅó̵̧̧̨̭̱̺͎͓̬̺́̉́̾̔A̶͙͉̖̰̱̰͐̒̿̈̚͜͡n̹̩̹̰͋̓̀̂̒͌͌͞ͅi̶̟͎̳̫̹͒̈̆̔̇͘̕f̶̞̳̯͖̺̘̬͈̗͙̿̉̓͑͘a̧̧̠̗̭̲͎̗̔̃̃̽̆̐̕͡ͅn̨̤̲̩̙̯͎̝͒͒̏̀͋̒̚͢͝ r̶̡̭͚̜̆́̓̒̕͟ n̸͍̻̝͉̯̱͚͎̠̝̋̊̉̓͞͠u̴͎̙̗̩̪͌̔̂̏́͢r̴̛̙̣͙̻̯͒̒̋̄͟i̸̡̦̖̭̩͑͛̌̑̚͝n̢̮͚̙̰͗̏͑̎̏̊̂̈́̀͟͟͠á̵̦̼͖̝̟̈͗̓̈́̌̃̔þ̨̻̗͕̯̆̆͒̆͛͘͘͠a̯̯̪͖͍̺̦͈͗̇͗͑̃̑͟͡͞t̛̟̰̝̙̘͙̥̻̮̔̾̀̎͆̆͘͝a̢̫̥̬̭̾̓̀̀̾̑̏̿̍ͅn̡̩͉͕̝̬̖̲̽̒̃̕͜͝ț̵̞͇̣̯̔͋͛̓͗͌̈̄̇͞Í̶̝͙̤̳̥̹̱̩̅̅̉̇̾͠  
.  
.

They tried again.

.  
.  
l̵̳̤̤͓͕̠͚̥̤̏́͒̑̓̈́̀̽͘á̴̛̛̗͉̯͓͚̙̳̔̔̓́̈͞͡r̵̡̭̺̦͇̖̮͓̟̽̔̒̃͘ͅþ̸̨̛͕̪͙̮̲̤̇̔̿́̄̐̃͐͘͜͢ͅn͇͈̤̝̏̈̂́͑̓́͜͠͠ a̵̛͚̮͇͕̦̹̰̿̽̉̈́̋̔̋̚͜n̟͉͙̣̮͉̜̋̂͒̕̚ͅͅą̨̦͈̳̦͚̥̫͇̅̈́̒͑̋̂̓̕͘ì͍̺̥̼͎͙̣͑̑̊̆͐̍͜ͅȃ̢̛̻̖͔̟̘́̇̐̊̀̅̕͞ų̮̠̠̗̲̏̓̌̀̅͂̐̌͞͞ͅņ̡̟͇̥͖̘͇͋͋͋́͗͢f̞͈͉̠͙̃͌̇̒̀͢ǫ͎̪̱͈̣̫͚̠͍́͊̌̿̀͠ṅ̷̤̬͍͉͔̋̏͌͐̒͒̏͞l̴̤̩̱̞̙̃̑͆́̈̑̋̌̽͢͡i͖̼̳͍͉͈̲̟̐͒͆́̃̏̆͒͟͟͡Ą̴̭̟͎̓̓̑̽̿͒́͒̚͘ͅt̷̛̹͔̼̫͈͍̮͉̃̇́̇̉͆͝͡ṯ̴̺̫͔̻̲̜̞̭͗̌̃̏̌̑̓̓̈͞ Í̧̗̭̮̳͇̠̞̞̳́̐̀̿͐͠r̵̢̬̗̬̘͍̱̙̬͂̿̈́̇̉̎̋͊̕͢n̶̡̼̯̼̎̌̀̐̆̂̃͟G̴̪̖̠̝̯̊̓̿̓̈́̍͟͝  
.  
.

**_WHAT IS OUR NAME-_ **

There was nothing.

No name.

Only a handful of colors.

_Red and blue and black and gold._

And a shadow of a memory.

A memory of purple, and sky-blue.

 

* * *

 

The Others in the old trees were gone.

But the little ones with auras of gray and off-white, they remained.

Their dreams were  _so close._

_**Tell us.**  
_

.  
.  
**_ť̡̥̯͍͖͖̠̫͖͕͊͊͗́̆̿́e͎̟̭̣̮͋͌̍͂̋̾͡͝L̶̳̭̜̬͚͐͂̊͗̉̇̉̑̕Ļ̷̧̥̫̘̦̬̖͗̍̌̒͑͌̉͜ ṳ̴͎̱̦̩̬̓͐̿͗̿̀͆s̵̨̻̜̝͕̫̩͙̻͕͑̃̆͝͡ o̧̥̖̗̰̣̾́̍̑̇͝Ù̢̨̮̣̥̟̝̩̭̰̇̄͌̈́̅͑̂́r̛͈͙͓̥̳͉͓͉̿́́͘͝ ņ̨̛̠͕̱̓̀̀̽̑͘͢ą̢̡̨̰͕̞̟͖̆̑̑͋̃̐͐̄̚̚͜M̶̨̜̳͕̳͖̻̼̦̒̊̔͊̕̚͜e̴̢̨̯̘̞̥̦̤̖̍̀̽̒̓̓̃_**  
.

 

* * *

 

_The sky-blue is going to the forest, to the forest-_

 

* * *

 

With a crack barely louder than a sigh, the strength in the maple's roots faded. Up above, the blue and the purple were there, so  _near,_ but all they could think was-

- _free._

The maple had done half the remembering for them.

Remembering  _why,_ if not  _who._

Without the maple, all they had was red and blue and black and gold.

And purple.

And just the faintest bit of sky, sky blue.

And deeper still - a memory locked far, far away, unreachable until they could  _breathe_ again.

They  _knew._

A name.

 

* * *

 

_It is not Our name._

  
.  
ẃ̛̺̜̜̟̪̿̊̐́̊́͢͝h͖̞̺͔̗̼͇̼̃̆̈͊̆̀̚͘͢͟͠a̵̮̰̠͖̜͎̙̺͛͛̃̈͐́͌̃͜͝͞ţ̵͇̪̥̥̙͖͒͐̋̀̽̚̚͜͞͡ į̶̡̜̭̙̱͊̄͂̆͒̚s̛͙̭̞̭̼̻͖̑͗͆̐̈́ ô̸͍͈̳̜̳̼͇̎͂̇͝u̖̗̙̭̞̹̩̿͛͋͗̑͜ṙ̦̤͓̻̭͈̝̌̑̉͋̊ n͔̰̝͎̰̬̭̘͒͐̈̾͘a̸̢̙͖̹͚̻̯̱̅̒̿̽͋͆̽͛̓̌ͅm̶͔͇̙͎̳̘͚̎̐̈̒̓͘͢͡ȩ̸̛͍̘̰̰͔̒̆̒͗̽͌̚͢͢͝͡  
.

_We **need** Our name._

 

* * *

 

The day was too bright. All the things were Awake and their auras, even the Grays and Off-Whites, they  _stung._ Worse than the dying maple. Worse than the half-memories, teasing from the shadows behind grates down in the sewer, hiding in the reek their body produced. 

They waited for the sun to disappear.

Then they went to find the Sky-Blue.

 

* * *

 

 _...I am not yours to **take,**_ the Sky-Blue told them.

They croaked and hissed and gave more papercut memories to the Sky-Blue, and a part of them screamed.

 

* * *

 

Back into the sewers they went, leaving a part of their Red to finish the job. 

_The Sky-Blue does not want to listen._

_It **must**_ _listen._

A part of them cried again in the dark, and their Red was dull that night. 

 

* * *

 

They hadn't counted on the Purple.

From the dark, they watched the Purple heal the Sky-Blue.

Listened to their Red hiss and sputter and become nothing but another bad memory.

They repeated the Name over and over in their head and their many brains squished in one skull, trying to understand  _why_ they felt such  _anger_ when they saw the Sky-Blue touch the Purple and the Purple touch the Sky-Blue.

 

* * *

 

_Again._

Waste spilled down the pipes, flooding the sewer with human refuse and candy wrappers and pieces of paper long turned to mulch. The old, old lightbulbs in the ceiling had long since popped and fizzled, leaving only a hint of an electrical current, but that was enough to see by. The crimson glow washing over the walls helped provide a little garish light, too.

**_Again._ **

The stench of chlorine and rotten flesh, almost overwhelming, wasn't quite enough to mask the scent of caramel, and cotton, and grass and hot pavement.

.  
.  
**A̪͖̜̹̠̬̙̓́̍̑͜͢͠ͅ G̢̛̛͓̹͚͉̎̍͗͟͠ Ǎ̧̗͇͔̝͉̰̝͛̌͊̇͐͋̄͟ I̵̡̡̜̱̰͙͖̼̰̝͒̈́̄̾̈́̅̒̐͞ Ņ̷̮̼̗͖̗̄̏̔̐̄̕͟͝**  
.  
.  
.  
**_._**  
**_P̢̡̝͖͍̝͎̐̇̆̑̂͗̋͌̑Ư̴̪͙̫̞̭̻͖̹͌́̽̆͋̍̎̾͞Ŕ̶̫̗̙̲̯͙̘̱̆̈͑̾͐̂̕ͅP͍̮̠̟̤͆͑̀̑̉̌̔̓Ḷ̵͈̣̬̮̬̼͐͑̽̚͟͡Ê̶̻͔͇͕͙͍̮̣̬̾̀͐̉͊̔̍̕͢͝ A̧̪͈̺̦̥̗̰̋̊̃̐̇̌͛̚͢͠N̢̜̘̻̘̊̿̎͑́̂́̂̏Ḍ̜̳͔̺̮͗͑͗̏̚ B̘̝̲̥͓̲͛̏͂̂̕͝͠Ḽ̫̬͈̖͍̹͗̍̊̐̔͗͑͘͘Ù̡̧͍̘̠̗̫̰͈͋̈̏̕͢͡E̟̼͍͖̿͊̄́̊͜_**  
.

The sunlight outside _burned_. Even down in the dark, they could feel how...  _awake_ the world was. 

_Too awake._

But nightfall would come soon enough, and all that was awake would _sleep_ , and they would be strong again. 

 

* * *

 

Before night, they tried something different.

A part of them remembered, even if the other parts didn't understand.

.  
.  
C̸̡̢͙̠͇͍͍̀̔̈́̂͌͑̓̆̄̕ô̵̧̦͈̮͓̗̭͛̉̓̓͊̑͂̚͟͜m̧̯̣͇͉͂̈́̽̀̅̔͊̌͡e͔̜̟̼̥͑̔̔̑̚͢͡ f̵̢̜̻͎͖̖̗͕̏͗̇̾̐̚͜ì̥̖̦̙̰̩͖͌̃̀̿̔̕͢͜͞͝ͅn͚̯͖̩̣̘̤̈́̒͂̀̉͠ͅḍ̶̛̣͚̟̦͇̘̬͋͛̀̓̚̕ ų͚̲̠̬́̽̍̃̎̆͠s̯̮̳̖͛̇̈͑̏̕͢  
.

 

* * *

 

The Purple was strong, wasn't it? It didn't listen.

A part of them was proud.

But so much more of them was _angry._

And the hunger was  _still there._

Another half-memory surfaced, and howled in what remained of their ears.

_A way things were._

_Never again, because of us - **you -** me-_

They remembered.

_We remember._

They croaked the Name again and again and waited for night.

 

* * *

 

Night fell quietly.

They forced themselves to keep from chasing the dreams.

 _._  
.  
W̷̪̪̳̹̝͖͖͍̫͐̊͑͋̆̐͆̕͠ę̶̛͉͔͈͚̙͍̼̫̽͆͗̈́͆͌͞͠͡ à̵̫͖͕̰͇͇̤̟͍͑̽̏́̈̑͐͠ȑ̵̘̳̯̥͚͉͎̊͐̿́̎̃̕͘ȩ̛̻̦̞̃͒̽̓͆̅̕͢͢ s͇̱͇̳̲̪͇̼͔͛̇̓̀̄̆̆͛́͢͝ẗ̢̞͙̱̯̰̳͇́̓̓͂̌̅r̨̡̛͎͈͍͓̤͓̔͂́͑͑̅͊̔̈ò̴̠̦̞̼̘̝̣̈̄̊̚͢͠͝ͅņ̵̜͇̺̬̞̄́̐̔͌͡g̨̰͓̹̩͔̗̯̜̾͌͗̍̈́̊̀̍͠ á̷̡͉̙̫̥̽̏̑̓̎̕̕g̡͉͉̱͚̭̙̣̱̾̓̇͆̀̽͛͟͠͝á̸̢͕̙̹̘͔͉̬̠̽͌͆̓̚͜͠͠i̵̧̡̗͎̠̎͗͋̈́̐͟ͅñ̨̠̖̻̬̖̙̓̽͋̔̏̈͟͟  
.  
.

Above, they felt the Sky-Blue, but they did not crawl for the tunnel to the maple again.

The Purple was closer.

The Purple was clever, and strong-

-and _asleep_.

.  
.  
_**R͕̝̼͇͛̏̓̒͋̔͟ḇ͚̜̲͎̻͓̳̤̞̐͑̿͂̽̀͡ȏ̸̯͍̱̞̳̦͕̤́͑̊͗̑̇͆̕͢b̢͓͎̩̱͗͛͂͌̂̐̕̕̚b̸̢̘͉͒͂̽͜͜͜͞͞į̸͍̮͚̼͓̯̣̫̍̓̈́̾̚ë̸͚̞̣̼͚̠̳́̾̐̂̉̿̉͆̈ì̢̺͈̪̬̟͐̔̃̽̂̈͑e̳͓̘̠̪̲̱̍̽͋̑͐͑͌̏̎e̶̪̬̼̤̻̽̃͐̎͐́́͘í̢̧̝̯̳̗̰̖̝̽̍̆̔͟**_  
.  
.

The smell of chlorine and cinnamon filled the air again, and they lurched down the tunnel towards the house with the purple glow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, ain't that just peachy.
> 
> So much for rest and recuperation, eh boys??


	9. April Fool's Chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, forewarning, I uploaded this chapter as an April Fool's prank. It has no relevance to the story and is not meant to be taken seriously in any way whatsoever. If you only want to read the relevant story, please skip and continue to chapter 10. 
> 
> If you want some stupidity and bad memes, please continue reading :D

"I hate this," Robbie grumbled as he slowly climbed up the ladder into Sportacus's airship. "Why couldn't we just meet on the ground? You know, the ground? Nice, stable, not prone to getting speeding tickets-"

Sportacus sighed and held out a hand to the half-fae, who swatted it away with a glower. Standing back as Robbie half-crawled, half-bellyflopped into his airship, Sportacus motioned the door closed and said, "The ground is too close to the sewers. It's safer up here, I promise."

"Safe for  _you,_ maybe," Robbie muttered, glancing around the barren ship as if it might suddenly grow a gastrointestinal tract and start digesting him.

"And you," Sportacus assured.

Robbie waved a dismissive hand and sniffed. "Okay. So. Let's get this over with before I change my mind. Have you been thinking of a plan?"

Sportacus beamed. "I'm so glad you asked, Robbie!"

Robbie sighed. "Good, because I hadn't-"

"Gun!"

Something in the ship hissed, and Robbie ducked away with a shriek as the ceiling opened up and four handguns fell down onto the ground with a clatter. Recoiling from both the firearms and the still-beaming elf whose teeth should've come with an epilepsy warning, Robbie sputtered, "What - why do you have  _guns??"_

Sportacus crouched and started tucking the pistols into his waistband. "Gift from my cousin, Poldarcus! I helped him fight off this human spy a few years ago-"

"Oh gods, forget I asked." Pressing each hand to the side of his nose, Robbie drew in a long breath and gave Sportacus the most withering glare he could muster. "How do you know  _guns_ are going to work again this thing?"

"Elf guns, Robbie.  _Elf guns."_

" _What-"_

"I didn't have them the first time, obviously it will work now! We just need to lure it out into the open and distract it so I can land a good shot," Sportacus explained, still with that violently incandescent smile. "Unless you have another idea?"

Robbie couldn't even find it in himself to process the concept of  _language_ after what he'd just heard, so he stood floundering like a beached whale until Sportacus shrugged and said, "Okay then, I think we should scout Lazytown from the air until we found a good spot to corner the creature. I've already asked everyone to stay inside so we shouldn't have to worry about people getting hurt." He held out one gun towards Robbie. "Do you want one?"

"I hate you," Robbie growled, finding his voice again. "So much."

Sportacus frowned. "Do you want one or not?"

Robbie shook his head. Purple poofed around his fingertips. "No, I'm good. Oh, and if you shoot me in the back, my ghost  _will_ haunt you for the rest of your miserable sugar-free life."

"Robbie, I would never-"

"Can we just get moving already?" Robbie grumbled, looking around the ship with increasing nervousness.

"Sure!" Finger up again, Sportacus shouted, "Jet!"

Robbie did a double take. "Wait a fuck - you have a  _jet-"_

The floor opened up beneath him and he fell with a screech. He made it only a few feet down before impacting on a cushiony seat, shotgun to Sportacus as the elf did a triple backflip and landed beside Robbie with a dopey grin. Robbie considered vomiting before he remember the elf doing just that in his house, and he managed to restrain himself... at least until the jet dropped out of the hangar and the wind nearly blew Robbie out of his seat.

As he scrambled for a seat belt, Sportacus flicked on the radio.

" _ **-let's START A RIOT, A RIOT, LET'S START A RIOT-"**_

Robbie shrank away from the radio in horror, only just barely clicking in his seatbelt before Sportacus gunned the engine. "You listen to  _this??"_ he shrieked above the wind howling in his ears.

Sportacus looked insulted. "Yeah?"

"I swear to god, Sportachump, I will jump out of this jet if you do not change it to something that won't cause my head to  _explode."_

The elf pouted like a kicked puppy, or perhaps a teenage white boy after a girl refuses to give him her number, although it is a well known fact that Sportacus is not an asshole and no facial expression of his would ever veil such insidious intentions. "Okay, I can change it if you want..."

"Yes oh my _god_ do it _now,"_ Robbie groaned, slowly taking his hands off his ears.

Sportacus poked the skip button on the radio.

"- ** _CRAAAAWWWLING IIIINN MY SKIIIIIIIIIIN-"_**

"OH GOD NO CHANGE IT!"

Sportacus frantically hit the button again and the jet veered to the right.

" _ **-LET THE BODIES HIT THE FLOOOOOOOOORR-"**_

"NO!" Robbie shrieked.

"Sorry, Robbie, sorry!"

**_"-get up, get up, DOWN WITH THE SICKNESS-"_ **

"I HATE YOU, SPORTADICK!"

**_"-a ella le gusta la gasolina! Dame mas gasoliiina!"_ **

Robbie flailed his arms out before the elf could touch the button again. "No! Leave it! This is fine!"

"Robbie, sorry about that-"

"Just steer the fucking plane before we crash, Sportakook!"

"Okay, hold on-"

_**"-dame mas gasoliiiiina!"** _

"If we live, Sportafuck, I'm killing you myself!"

 

* * *

 

**_Vermillion and cobalt and onyx and aureolin._ **

_Yes - yes, he is coming._

_Our Master._

_He is coming._

_The Amethyst and the Cyan will fall._

 

* * *

 

Robbie very deliberately distracted himself from the music by focusing on Sportaflop. Checking over every inch of the probably insane gun-toting elf. For signs of insanity. Of course. Not because he found himself consumed with lust for the elf at any given point or anything. Duh.

Shirt - veritably skin tight.

Pants - the same.

Hat -  _stupid._

Hair - just a bit visible and looking very muss-able. 

Mustache - adorably ridiculous.

Eyes -  _luscious cerulean orbs._

How badly would it fuck up the jet's steering if Robbie tactically made out with the elf right then and there?

That was when Glanni appeared over the side of the jet, shaking his head in Robbie's general direction. "C'mon, kiddo, falling for an elf never ends well. Look what happened to me! Do yourself a favor and ditch him quick."

Robbie blinked  _very slowly_ and Glanni disappeared with a cackle.

"Oh gods, I'm too young to be going senile," Robbie muttered. He returned his attention to Sportaflop's bulging biceps.

_**"-DAME MAS GASOLIIINAAA-"** _

"Oh for  _fuck's sake,_ did you break the radio?!" Robbie complained. 

"Doesn't matter!" Sportacus yelled over the wind. "Look down!"

Robbie hesitantly obeyed and - well, fuck.

That didn't take long.

Sportacus circled the jet twice and shot down towards the ground, landing with a suspicious  _crunch_ and vaulting over the side of the jet. Robbie followed upon cracking his back, and hunched his way out after the elf only to find him standing still and staring out at the middle of the street. Sitting down in the middle of the intersection all messy and disproportionate was the Lazytown Sewer Monster.

A strange look crossed Sportacus's face. "Wait a minute."

"What?" Robbie whispered, watching the monster carefully.

Sportacus's eyes went wide with horror. "Mother of god!" He tore his sunglasses off his face. "That's not a moss monster!"

"Where did you get sunglasses-"

"-that's a  _weed monster,"_ Sportacus finished.

Robbie froze. Before either of them could speak, a strange sound like villainous background music welled up from beneath the ground. It sounded like a choir vaguely chanting  _fooouurr-tweeeenty, blaaaaaaaaaze._ As Robbie and Sportacus watched, a smirking youth dressed in green and yellow, with slightly reddened eyes, walked out from around the side of the monster, veiled in a cloud of vape smoke.

"I've been waiting for you," he smirked smirksomely. 

Sportacus let out a gasp. "Jives!!"

Robbie blinked. "Wait, you know this kid?"

"He was my aerobics apprentice once... long ago..." Sportacus murmured, still with a lot of horror because horror is an acceptable word and I'm too lazy to look at a Thesaurus right now. "How _could_ you, Jives?!" Sportacus wailed.

"Easily!" Jives proclaimed, stroking an imaginary goatee. "You're so trusting, Sportacus. Isn't he, Robbie?"

"Robbie, he betrayed me," Sportacus snarled. "He took the aerobics secrets I taught him and he used them for evil! He's destroyed countless towns on his quest for the perfect weed!"

"And now I've found it!" Jives crowed triumphantly, gesturing to the monster. "A monster steeped in magic, a natural source of the most powerful weed of all! And it's going to be mine forever - as soon as I make sure you won't be coming back to try and take it from me!"

"You're like, fourteen," Robbie commented blankly. 

"FUCK YOU."

"Jives, please," Sportacus warned. "Don't do this."

**_"DAME MAS GASOLIIIINAAA-"_ **

Robbie rolled his eyes. "Oh for fuck's sake, enough of this," he muttered. A purple fireball appeared in his hands. "DISTRACTION!" Robbie shouted, hurtling the fireball towards Jives and the weed monster before turning and bolting the fuck out of the danger zone.

The monster howled as the fireball impacted. Its gaze turned to Robbie.

"Oh, shit." Robbie dug a die out of his pocket and rolled it across the cement. "Ooh, natural 20!"

Robbie jumped into the nearest bush, and the monster spontaneously lost all its sense of object permanence, and turned its attention towards Sportacus instead. Sportacus unloaded all four of his handguns against both the monster and Jives in an epic backflipping action montage that would make Jackie Chan jealous. In the process his hat got knocked off his head, and with sweat staining his brow he looked just the right amount of scruffy.

However, the guns did approximately jack shit against the monster, because it's a magical fairy elf sewer monster.

It was at this point, Sportacus realized he'd fucked up, and he sprinted back to the jet. Squatting it onto his shoulders in an epic display of strength, he chucked the jet across the street at the monster as it charged after him.

Jives, who was a bit smarter than the monster, had not been fooled by the nat 20 as badly, and happened to remember that Robbie still existed.

"Come out and fight, you furry!" he taunted. "Or are you gonna let your boyfriend do all the work?"

"He's not my boyfriend, you dickhead!" Robbie lied feebly, maneuvering through the hedges to get a better shot.

"Oh, yeah? All of tumblr says otherwise!" 

Robbie burst out of the bush and launched another fireball. This one hit Jives square in the face and he poofed into a cloud of vape smoke, which promptly started cackling.

"YOU FOOL! THIS ISN'T EVEN MY FINAL FORM!"

Robbie grinned, snapped his fingers, and a vacuum materialized in front of him. Switching it on, he brandished the nozzle towards the vape cloud, and as it was sucked into the void it let out a horrified wail and a string of curse words calling out the author for being a jerk to a boy who already drew the short stick in terms of characters who were allowed to transfer from the stage play to the TV show. 

Tragically, Robbie's victory was short lived, as a blue blur was flung past his face and hit the pavement with a sickening thud.

Robbie gasped and ran over to the crumpled elf as the monster bellowed.

"Sportacus, you _fuck_ -"

"Robbie," Sportacus croaked dramatically. "I - I never got a chance to tell you-"

**_"-DAME MAS GASOLIIIIIINAAAAA-"_ **

The monster charged towards Robbie and Sportacus.

"QUICK JUST MAKE OUT WITH ME," Robbie screamed, "IT'LL HAVE TO ROLL A WISDOM SAVE!"

Sportacus and Robbie started furiously making out.

And the sewer monster rolled a natural 1 and was so shocked it faceplanted and knocked itself out cold.

Robbie sighed in relief and looked into Sportacus's eyes.

"Robbie," Sportacus wheezed out, "I just want you to know..."

"Sportacus, I-"

"I'm never going to give you up, or let you down-"

"-fffFUCKING HATE YOU OH MY GOD!"

 

* * *

 

While Pixel and Stingy wrestled over the last video game controller like two crocodiles fighting over their autographed fan magazines of Steve Irwin, Trixie's head shot up and she stared out the window in confusion, pausing the game before she could see a small blue shape in the bottom of her third of the screen.

"What was that sound?" she asked, nudging Stephanie's arm.

Stephanie sighed. "You mean the screaming and  _Gasolina?"_

"No, the other one."

Stephanie listened harder. The game controller slipped from both Stingy and Pixel's hands and was intercepted shortly by Ziggy, who had now emerged from his cocoon under the couch, metamorphosed into a large taffy butterfly.

"Don't worry, Trixie," she said, looking into the camera like she was in  _The Office._ "That's just the author giggling like a madwoman."

Then she unpaused Mario Kart and the blue shell threw Trixie off the map.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> APRIL FOOLS
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> I would like to issue an official apology to my weed son Jives for misusing him so terribly
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> ...I promise I'll get the next chapter out soon please don't abandon me for this xD


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy howdy, April Fool's was entertaining xD
> 
> I promise this is not another prank chapter

Robbie counted himself lucky that he didn't see the elf for two entire days after the incident with the maple and the - the  _monster_. His only evidence of Sportaflop's continued existence was the sound of yelling children, and that  _stupid_ accent chiming in every so often, coming from Robbie's speaker system. He gathered from the kids' occasional quieter conversations that Sportaflop wasn't quite back up to his usual self, usually playing referee for their games instead of participating.

The elf looked tired, mostly.

And Robbie only knew this because he looked  _once -_ maybe twice, or three times - a day up through his periscope,  _solely_  to collect  _information_ on his temporary ally/prolonged backflipping nuisance, not because he was... worried about side effects from the monster's magic, or anything. The elf was more useful to him alive, that was all. Nothing else to it.

By now, the town had gone mostly quiet, as kids went home for dinner and the streets slowly became empty with the setting sun. Robbie slumped until his head smacked into the table and groaned.

There he was, thinking about that stupid, overly-trusting  _elf_ again.

Did he still have the Memory Sucker sitting around somewhere? Not that he had any idea  _who_ he would be using it on, but it might be a good backup plan, in case the elf got too invasive in Robbie's brain, as he was tending to do on a regular basis these days.

Why did the elf  _trust_ him?? What had Robbie ever done that was even  _remotely_ trustworthy??

Robbie growled under his breath and started pacing in circles through his house, up the stairs and past the periscope and down and around his chair again. Grabbing the back of the chair, he perched up on his toes and leaned into the recliner, rocking back and forth slowly as he went over every plan he'd ever used to try and get the elf out of town.

Most of them, in hindsight, weren't exactly...  _lethal_ enough to be more than a minor inconvenience.

All because of the kids, of course. Robbie had no particular fondness for collateral damage.

Maybe if he'd put less effort into framing Sportaflop as a fraud and idiot (which he was, of course) and more effort into  _killing_ him...

...there would still be a monster.

There would still be trees and nightmares and the bad taste of chlorine.

Elf or no elf. 

Robbie sank his head onto the top of his chair and groaned into the orange fuzz. "Why me??"

The elf had said-

_"Thank you, Robbie."_

-and it hadn't sounded  _fake._

What was he  _thinking,_ helping Sportaflop?? Somehow their new 'alliance' was causing Robbie more grief than any of his failed attempts at getting the elf to leave. Grumbling incoherent complaints under his breath, Robbie pulled himself away from the chair and stormed over to the periscope again, dragging it down and almost smacking his face into the visor as he squinted into the lens.

As if on queue, a blue smudge sprinted across Robbie's field of vision, before skidding to a halt in front of the mayor's house, just before the poor old man himself fell off his ladder. 

_"Mayor, you really should be a bit more careful on these things!"_ the elf said, gently lowering the man down to the ground.

Robbie considered deliberately smacking the periscope with the entirety of his face. He made himself watch Sportaflop offer to put up the bird feeder for the blustering mayor for only another minute before he dragged himself away and back to his workbench.

Sportaflop was  _helpful._

It felt like a strange conclusion to draw  _now,_ after months of the elf living in Lazytown, but Sportaflop was... helpful. To everyone, not just the kids - kids who, as Robbie had been led to believe, were the only humans elves tolerated at any given point. He helped Milford, Bessie, and the other adults in Lazytown.

_All_ the adults.

Even Robbie. 

_"Robbie, just jump down! I'll catch you!"_

_"Go away!!"_

Robbie buried his face in his hands. 

That stupid elf was helpful and annoyingly kind and hyperactive and - and  _too damn trusting._

Why couldn't all elves just - be the same?? That would've made Robbie's life so much easier, he could've actually  _justified_ being aggressive then and he wouldn't have to pussyfoot around just  _killing_ the elf and maybe he'd feel better if the elf just killed him, too-

-but  _no,_ the elf had to be  _nice._ Even after knowing Robbie was half-fae.

Maybe it was just until the monster was gone. Maybe after  _that_ was dealt with, Sportaflop would finally show his true colors. His... his sky-blue colors. 

...even if Sportaflop was messing with Robbie, no self-respecting elf would let a fae near their aura, would they?? At least, no  _normal,_ fairy-hating, self-respecting elf would do such a thing.

So... 

_Gods, Glanni would have a **fit**  if he knew what was going on._

So... all things considered... the monster, the helping _,_ the  _trusting..._ maybe Sportaflop...  _didn't_ hate Robbie.

Robbie's head dropped from his hands and hit the table with a dull thud. His wards perked up at the same time as a wave of throbbing pain went through his temple, and with a slow wave of his hand he shooed them and their concerned humming away. Their chattering lingered for a moment before fading, and Robbie resigned himself to lying limp on the table, slightly stupefied by his slow realization.

He couldn't think of any other reason for the elf's strange trust, and his  _kindness..._ Sportaflop didn't hate him. That still didn't explain  _why,_ but there would be time for that later. Maybe.

For the moment, this knowledge served one use and one use only; clearing Robbie's head enough to let him focus on the facts.

Fact 1: Lazytown had a monster. Didn't matter where it'd come from or what it  _was,_ it was there and in all likelihood was not leaving. 

Fact 2: that monster was capable of immobilizing an elf.

Fact 3: Robbie was  _not_ as strong, magic or otherwise, as said elf.

And the final fact: his only chance against a monster of that caliber was  _heavily_ reinforced wards, which he should start working on sooner rather than later. 

Scowling in the vague direction of his workbench, Robbie worked his vest off of his torso and smoothed it out over the table. He had the sneaking suspicion that clothing wards wouldn't be the best long-term solution, but since he hardly ever changed into actual pajamas, it would at least give him some protection for the time being while he figured out a more efficient countermeasure. Which he had few of, at the moment. 

...short of ditching town, of course.

That was always a... somewhat-tempting plan B. Which had now been bumped down to plan C as of Robbie's alliance with Sportakook. Plan B currently consisted of _'throw Sportaflop at the monster and hope for the best'_. Plan A was still in the slow process of being brainstormed.

Robbie carefully stitched a series of runes into the collar of the vest, reiterating symbols for  _alert, sturdy, closed,_ and  _quiet._ He'd never gotten a chance to learn how to make direct runes, so any defensive magic had to be crafted with runes that at least  _partially_ resembled the end goal. So far that particular quartet seemed to do the trick when it came to keeping Robbie safe.

As Robbie slowly worked through the runes, repeating the series twice over on each lapel and then moving on to the sleeves, where he added the rune for  _swift,_ he allowed himself to entertain just one more thought regarding Sportaflop. Specifically, what kind of useful magic the elf might bring to this alliance.

Needle in, needle out. Tug. Snip.

Robbie remembered the  _first_ elf all too well.

Mostly he remembered glass, and the house screaming, and  _Mom_ screaming-

The needle twitched in Robbie's hand. 

The only thing he  _knew_ that elf could do was chase fairies. And that wouldn't help here.

Setting the needle down on his vest, Robbie leaned back and rubbed his hands over his face.  _Stop thinking about him,_ he told himself,  _he's not here, he's not here, he's not the problem anymore._

The old elf didn't matter.  _Sportaflop,_ dare Robbie even think it, was the one who mattered. And therein lay the problem.

Robbie had  _no idea_ what kind of magic Sportaflop could use. Not even a single clue. Obviously he - he  _flipped_ everywhere like a maniac, and reacted about as well to sugar as a toaster did to water, and somehow sustained himself on fruit and vegetables alone. Which led Robbie to exactly no conclusions whatsoever, because he had not even the  _slightest_ frame of reference as to whether that was - normal elf behavior, or Sportaflop behavior.

His wards keened. He waved them off with a sharp flick of the wrist. So what if they didn't like him thinking about elves, he  _needed_ to at least - _consider options._

"Come on, Robbie, _think_ ," he murmured, nose twitching.

Sportaflop-

_Sportaflop-_

When had Sportaflop been around magic not trying to kill him. That was a good start.

There was Robbie, of course, any time he used a disguise and the elf very clearly saw through it - but, that wasn't telling of much other than Sportaflop  _was_ magic, and observant. And when Robbie all but  _attacked_ him for talking to the maple-

Robbie stiffened.

The maple. The elf had spoken with the maple, enough to - to glean a sense of what happened,  _that night._

Sportaflop could talk to fae trees. 

More importantly - the trees talked  _back._

And trees didn't-

Unless they-

- _trusted. An. Elf._

Robbie's wards itched up his spine.

"Stop complaining," he grumbled. "You know I'm right." When they kept buzzing, he curled onto the workbench, pressing his face into his crossed arms. "The forest trusted him. The  _maple_ trusted him, for fuck's sake, and it's never talked to me  _once."_ Not that he ever  _tried_ to talk to it, but that was beside the point. At the time it hadn't even really registered to him, but...

An elf would have to  _know_ in order to talk to fae trees. Know how trees worked, and talked, and know how to use just enough magic to let them know you were  _worth_ talking to. 

And just  _knowing..._ would probably be useful.

Which meant Robbie was going to, at some point, have to  _talk_ to Sportaflop.

Talk. Without plots or illusions or hostility, or the inconvenience of Sportaflop being rendered incapable of speech thanks to a sewer monster.

Robbie didn't even have to bother trying to remember in order to know that such a thing had  _never_ occurred between the two of them, and already he wasn't looking forward to actually  _doing_ it for the first time. 

At the mere thought of seeing the elf again, Robbie's wards practically wailed.

"Oh, for crying out loud,  _what do you want??"_ Robbie snapped, head shooting up, vision a bit blurry. "I don't care if you don't  _like_ it, he's - he's  _reliable,_ at least, obviously I don't - I don't  _trust_ him, but - come on, what other choice do I have??"

The wards coiled up around him like so many high-strung snakes, jammed their way into the back of his mind, and Robbie braced for an angry menagerie of blue.

There was indeed blue.

There was also red.

Black.

And gold.

The stench of chlorine filled the air, and all the house's wards began to scream. 

 

* * *

 

The little Purple had made it too easy. Fighting with his wards, making them silent, less awake.

The house found a way to tell him, eventually.

By then...

.  
.  
_**R̴̡̢̹͍̫̿̄̇͐͘o̶̡̟̗̦̞̦̩͋̒͑͊͛̂̽̕͡ḃ̴̹̤̲̗̜̍́̃͐͡͠ͅḅ̧̼̮͎͈͔͊̒̌͐̀͋̈́̓̌͢͟ȉ̷͖̠̖̫̘̈́͑̽̊̍͢͝e̶̡̛̠̻͍͕̲̞̊͑̍̚͠i͇͍̮͖̗̞̿̏̐̅͂̇̚͜͟e̡̡̼͙̻͙̲̭͔͒̔̑̐̓͗̌̆̃͡ͅe̷͉̮͇͇̺̙̻͔͌̆͂̇̓̎͠ͅi̧͔̲̤̫̖͓͒̈͒̐̊̌̽͋͆̀͟͟͟!**_  
.

...too late.

They broke into a lopsided run and impacted on the wall of the house.

 

* * *

 

The moment he heard the glass shatter, Robbie's vision blurred purple. Scrambling away from the workbench as shards of glass came flying towards his face, it was all he could do to call up a gust of wind around him, to keep the glass from burying itself in his skin. Before the shards even had a chance to fall, a  _boom_ like a clap of thunder shook the house, powerful enough to bring Robbie toppling backwards to the ground.

Breathing rapidly, Robbie rubbed his eyes and stared at the wall of his house as the glass fell and the wind died down.

There was-

-there was  _no wall._

It was  _gone._

The windows were shattered to pieces, and where once there had been a wall there were only twisted planks of dark wood and sheet metal, like a colony of sea urchins surrounding a now gaping wound in the house. 

Standing in the hole, breaths raspy and reeking of chlorine and sewage and the faintest hint of cinnamon, was something Robbie could only describe as a nightmare. Mismatched limbs and a body more dirt and stone than flesh, rebar sticking through in odd places-

And a face.

Robbie's blood roared in his ears, so loudly he couldn't hear his wards anymore. Every muscle in his body froze as the creature croaked and shuffled through the hole in the wall.

From one of its sharp-toothed mouths, a tongue lolled out, and the stench worsened to the point of making Robbie's eyes water. Forcing at least his arms to move, he tried to drag himself backwards, the stink almost making him want to vomit, but he wasn't fast, he wasn't  _nearly_ fast enough.

It was there in seconds, tongue hanging free, and as it got closer, Robbie saw it wasn't a tongue. Not really. The inside of its mouth was black and putrid, teeth stained yellow, and its mouth was filled near to bursting with - not a tongue,  _not a tongue._ It was just - a mass. A tumorous mass like regurgitated intestines, dripping viscous saliva and globules of dark blood. 

Robbie crumpled against the ground as it stepped over him, breathing almost toxic fumes upon his face. 

It croaked again, around its tongue that took up too much space and hung uselessly in the air. The way the lips moved - the way the croaks  _almost_ sounded-

_"RRrhrooggrragaaaa,"_ it grated out, putting one almost-human hand, tipped with cracked claws, forward onto Robbie's chest. It brought its face right up to Robbie's, and the tears finally fell from his eyes - whether it was from the odor, or the  _face,_ he didn't know. Maybe both. 

He could barely breathe, and try as he might, he couldn't look away from the face.

Hidden by matted, discolored hair, skin so dirty and pale, eyes  _wrong-_

But it was still a face.

And Robbie  _knew_ faces.

Knew  _this_ face.

Knew  _her._

"M-" The words wouldn't come. 

The creature leaned over him, eyes unblinking, and rasped again, " _Rrrghaoooaarrghgha! Rghhogh!"_  

Robbie's breath hitched in his throat and stayed there, as he stared up at the mismatched, hulking abomination with  _her face._ It stared back, cocking its head to one side, tongue retracting slowly into its mouth. The hand on his chest flexed, and the claws dug through the fabric of his shirt.

-his  _shirt._

Gods help him, his vest was  _still on the table._

The creature's claws sank into the skin of his chest, barely deep enough to pierce the skin, but enough. Robbie's eyes snapped back up to it, still brimming with tears, and half of a sob wrenched its way from his throat, and he still  _couldn't move._

On the monster's back, the red crystal Robbie could just barely see pulsed once.

His throat began to hurt like he'd swallowed a piece of glass. The crystal pulsed again, and the pain got  _worse-_

The creature let out a snarl and spat saliva on his face, and the crystal's glow faded. The pain faded with it, leaving a dull, numb throbbing in its place. Robbie almost dared allow himself a fraction of relief when the pain stopped, but the creature's snarling remained, and it shook its head like a rabid dog.

Then, faster than Robbie could blink, it pulled its hand away from his chest, slammed all limbs against the ground, and sank its teeth into Robbie's leg.

He let out a bloodcurdling scream as the creature started to  _pull._ Yanking him like a limp sack of potatoes, it pulled him across the floor, towards the hole in the wall. Robbie frantically tried to grab for any piece of furniture, but his hands didn't have the strength to hold on. Pain exploded up his leg when he tried to wrench it free from the creature's jaws, and he screamed again.

His wards sputtered weakly, burning around his hands.

Shaking, Robbie tried to form a fireball in his palms. The stench of the creature was so  _strong,_ and its colors were stronger-

-all he managed was a feeble flame, and it barely singed the creature when he flung it towards its face. It let out a muffled snort and only bit harder.

Head spinning, Robbie's mind raced in all directions, trying to think of  _something-_

What was left of his wards showed him blue. A soft blue, like the sky.

Robbie's throat tightened. The creature pulled him out through the hole in the wall.

Squeezing back the tears, Robbie looked up to the dark ceiling, and concentrated as hard as he could on the image of blue, and white, and apples and pointed ears. If he did this, he'd never be able to take it back, it was an open invitation for the elf to always  _know-_

The creature dragged him across glass that bit into his arms and back.

Sucking in a deep breath, Robbie screamed.

_"SPORTACUS!!"_

His scream echoed off the walls, and the monster didn't seem to notice, or care. Robbie heard a splash, and felt cold, slimy water seep into his clothes.

_Oh gods you stupid elf **help me** -!_

The monster vanished into the dark.

And Robbie disappeared with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well um.
> 
> Cliffhangers are fun, right?
> 
> -
> 
> So, a thing about that April Fool's chapter: at some point in the future, prolly soon, I will retitle it accordingly and put up a note at the beginning to explain what's about to happen. That was future readers won't be caught off guard by lack of a realization of when the chapter was posted. 
> 
> Also, I was considering removing the chapter and publishing it as its own work, to keep the story here streamlined. Since I love all the comments I received on that chapter I believe I may just remove the content of the chapter itself, leaving links to the separate post and explanation about what happened... any thoughts on that from you folks?


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, now, I wonder what's the blue kangaroo is up to. 
> 
> ( There is a bit of a panic attack in this chapter, courtesy of Sport. )

As soon as he'd circled through Lazytown once, to make sure everyone was home and safe and the streets were empty, Sportacus lingered halfway up the ladder to his ship until the sunset faded. For just a moment his gaze fell to the billboard with the cow and the house he  _knew_ lay beneath, but he tore his eyes away and slowly climbed up into his home away from home.

Inside, his normally immaculate ship was an absolute mess. 

_"Welcome back, Sportacus,"_ the airship greeted politely.

He mustered a shallow grin. "Hello, ship."

_"The town is secure?"_

He sighed and shrugged. "As secure as it  _can_  be." Glancing around the room, Sportacus carefully wove his way through the  _staggering_ amount of letters that were occupying the floor of the ship. The only clear space that really remained was around the pilot seat and his bed, which hadn't been put back into the wall since yesterday and had its own share of letters spread out on the comforter.

Sportacus had already gone through most of the letters, twice. 

He hadn't really gotten much sleep as of late.

The ones on the bed were the ones he'd been looking forward to the least. Out of all of the hundreds of papers scattered around, they were the newest - still almost two decades old, but new compared to the rest. All made of the same faintly yellowed parchment, soft like the leaves of northern elven trees... Sportacus kept every single one, diligently kept them safe after all this time.

He hadn't read any of them in so long...

_"Sportacus, do you need food?"_

He shook his head. "No thank you, ship."

If it was possible for an AI to sound disappointed, she was doing a wonderful impression with an electronic buzz that reminded Sportacus of a sigh.  _"If the pattern of the last several nights holds, you will not be sleeping at your usual time. In this case, I would advise at least having something to eat."_

Sportacus smiled feebly. "...an apple, please."

On cue, an apple shot out of a hole in the wall. Sportacus snatched it out of the air without looking at sat down cross-legged beside his bed, taking one bite from the apple and reaching for one of the letters on the bed. Unfolding it with the utmost reverence, he drew in a deep breath and read the precious few lines of swooping handwriting on the paper.

> _Lítillblá,_
> 
> _Hope practice is going well! Wonder if you got that soccer trick yet. I'm on my way home, keep the ship warm for me! Got close this time, didn't quite get him, tell you more when I get there._
> 
> _\- Níu_
> 
> _P.S - you might also want to get the first aid kit ready. Don't worry, it's just a scratch._

Sportacus almost smiled, reading that note at the end. Íþró always did have a strange definition of 'just a scratch'... especially considering  _that_  time, he'd come home with his chest so badly cut up it looked like he'd lost a fight with helicopter rotors, and one entire half of his face was bruised almost beyond recognition, and his arm looked like it had  _acid_ burns-

_"Níu, did he - did he really do all this?"_

_"Well, not all of it - okay, that's not how I taught you to hold a suture - his friend did some of it. Ow_ _."_

_"Sorry. Do you know where he's going?"_

_"...I think so."_

_"...Níu?"_

_"Yeah, Lítillblá?"_

_"I saw the letter from the Order. It - why are you still chasing him, if they said you're not supposed to anymore?"_

_"...what have I told you about looking through my stuff?"_

_"I'm sorry! But - why??"_

_"Sport, if they - if they send someone else - I don't think it'll end well."_

_"Clearly it's ending well for **you."**_

_"Has the ship been teaching you that sass?"_

_"You're stalling!"_

_"Fine, just don't stab me - I think he'll let me get close again, if I keep trying. If they send someone else, someone who doesn't know him... someone will get killed, I just know it. The Order just thinks I'm... too involved to stay objective."_

_"Well, they're right, aren't they?"_

_"Shush. The only thing that matters is getting him off the streets before he gets himself killed or causes another colossal mess. 'Involved' or not, I'm the Order's best chance at that and they'll thank me one day."_

_"...any way I can help?"_

_"You just keep that hand steady and don't sew your sleeve into my stitches."_

_"That was just one time!"_

If Sportacus had  _known,_ back then - maybe he could've taken the ship and followed his cousin, could've helped, maybe Íþró would still be  _alive._

...and maybe Glanni Glæpur, his cousin's nemesis and sometimes - lover?? - would still be alive, too.

And Robbie's mother.

And then Robbie and Sportacus wouldn't  _be_ in this mess. Or maybe they would, but at least they wouldn't be  _alone._

"Ship?" Sportacus asked.

_"Yes?"_

Sportacus ran his tongue over his lower lip. "Tell me honestly. Did Íþró - do you know if he ever took a fairy's wings?"

He could practically hear the ship's AI fishing through her memory banks.  _"No,"_ she replied,  _"he never spoke of committing such an act, nor was he ever instructed to do so by the Order."_

"Do you think..." Sportacus squeezed his eyes shut and breathed, "Do you think he  _could_ have?"

_"Anything is possible,"_ the ship said unhelpfully.  _"He was not present enough for me to acquire sufficient data regarding his opinion on the fae."_

Sportacus snorted. 'Not present enough' was certainly  _one_ way of putting it. 'Vanished off the face of the earth' was another good one. Thinking over the ship's answer, he tried a different approach.

"Do you think he could've hurt Glanni? On purpose?"

This time the ship's answer was immediate.  _"No. Not unless in defense of his life or innocent lives."_

"Even after all the things Glanni did?" Sportacus pressed. "Even after Latibær?"

_"Your cousin was nothing if not forgiving,"_ she said.  _"And biased. It is unlikely he would deliberately harm Glæpur. That does not necessarily lend insight as to his opinion of other fae, but it can be extrapolated from other behaviors that he would be disinclined to harming them, too."_

"...thank you, ship," Sportacus said softly. 

The truth was, he and the AI could sit here all day and night, going through letters and memories, and that still wouldn't get them any closer to understanding what happened to Íþró and Glanni and Robbie's mother in Lazytown. The only person who  _knew_ what happened that night had a - a  _hostile_ opinion of Íþró, to say the least, but that didn't mean all the things Robbie said weren't  _true._

If Íþró took a fairy's wings, took the wings of Robbie's  _mother-_

No wonder Robbie hated elves. 

No wonder he hated  _Sportacus._

And if Robbie's mother had been Glanni's friend - a better friend than he thought Íþró was, Sportacus was sure of that - what would've stopped Glanni from going after Íþró with everything he had? And what would've stopped Íþró from retaliating? And a fairy without wings couldn't  _do_ anything to stop that, could she, and Robbie - he had to have been around the same age Sportacus was back then, a child, and what could a child do??

_If I'd know, if I'd followed him-_

"Ship?"

_"Yes, Sportacus?"_

Running his thumb along the edge of the letter, he murmured, "Did you... did you know he was going to Lazytown? When he... left?"

The ship went quiet. Sportacus felt his throat constrict as the silence wore on.

"...ship?"

She was almost painfully blunt, as ever, when she answered,  _"It was one of several probable locations. There were few places he knew Glanni would go."_

Sportacus's hand curled into a fist around the letter. "And you didn't think to  _mention_ that??"

_"You made it clear you didn't want to know. You believed he would come back."_

Heart pounding in his ears, Sportacus pulled his knees up to his chest and buried his face into them, refusing to speak to the ship for the time being. His breaths came so quick and quiet he couldn't even hear them anymore. 

The ship had to have known he was lying, right? To her, himself - she knew where he was going and should've brought them there  _immediately-_

Íþró was never coming back, he'd known that as soon as the letters stopped coming, just tricked himself into hoping otherwise-

_"Sportacus, breathe,"_ the ship murmured in her mechanically gentle way. 

The ship was faster than the air balloon, they could've gotten there in time, and - and-

_"Sportacus."_

He could've  _helped_ somehow-

His crystal was starting to whine. 

_"Sportacus."_

Count the heartbeats; one, two.

_"Breathe."_

Count the breaths, one, two.

In, out.

Three, four-

_"Breathe."_

-five, six, seven-

_"Breathe."_

-eight, nine, ten.

Sportacus leaned back and splayed himself out on the floor, staring listlessly up at the ceiling as his heartbeat steadied and his breaths evened out. Through the sound of his pulse, still rapid enough to muffle the world around him, he could hear the whine of his crystal going quiet. Mustering something resembling a smile, he murmured, "Thank you, ship."

_"You need sleep,"_ she stated.

"...probably," Sportacus agreed, making no move towards his bed. He was tempted to just let himself pass out on the floor. Before he could make a decision one way or another, his crystal started chirping faintly.

An image flashed for a single second in Sportacus's head, and he shot bolt upright. The ship around him faded to nothingness, save for his crystal's high-pitched wailing.

All it showed him was dark place, and a name.

His name. 

It showed him the same way it had when he first came to Lazytown; a flicker of a face, the first time anyone in town said his name. They all said his name and let his crystal take the sound of their voice and  _remember_ it, so when the time came and they were in trouble, it would hear them and  _tell him._

Everyone in Lazytown had said his name and the crystal remembered them all, except-

There was no face in this vision, only a ceiling, dark and - purple.

And a voice, screaming.

_"SPORTACUS!!"_

Then nothing.

_"Sportacus, you are distressed..."_

He leaped to his feet in half a second and vaulted over to the pilot chair. "Ship, Robbie's in trouble!"

_"How do you know-"_

"He called my name. My  _real_ name. Something - something happened in his house."

She went quiet for a moment, and then-

_"Powering engines."_

Sportacus could barely find the focus to breathe as he clutched the steering wheel.

He only hoped his magic had recovered enough to keep the monster at bay this time.

"As fast as you can, ship," he whispered, "as fast as you can."

 

* * *

 

The Purple was theirs. Limp on the ground, no fight, no struggle. Glass and cuts and the dark said he was theirs, and so - he was.

Inside, their Red was screaming - of anger, of wanting to draw a thousand papercuts in the Purple's mouth, and make him theirs _all the way_ , just as they had tried with the Sky-Blue.

But the Gold and the Blackened-Blue screamed louder.

.  
.  
**N̡̻̻̝͔̹̼̤̽̇̀͗̈́Ợ̬̺̦̻͑͑̍́͆͐̈͘͢͝**  
.  
.

Purple, Purple mattered  _more._ Sky-Blue was just - a means. One failed attempt.

The Red still screamed, and the Gold and Blackened-Blue understood, and remembered -  _do not care, **does not matter.**_

Deeper into the tunnels they went.

 

* * *

 

Sportacus brought the airship to a shuddering halt just above Robbie's house and was out the door before she even stabilized properly. Leaping down to the ground, he made it all the way to the hatch above the chute before he remembered Robbie's wards.

Closing his eyes, Sportacus slowly reached out a hand and placed it on the metal, waiting for the wards to wake up in his presence.

When they did, he recoiled from the chute, gasping sharply. 

They weren't-

They weren't attacking him, like they had before, the last time he came uninvited. That time they left a burn on his palm that took hours to heal - the damage wasn't so serious, and only recently had Sportacus realized  _why_ Robbie's wards were so weak - but this time, he couldn't feel so much as a tingle of heat or electricity.

This time, he could  _hear_ them.

Weeping, keening like his crystal. Words in fae-speech that he couldn't understand, colors that brushed only the edge of his mind, too faintly for him to get a clear look.

All the same, Sportacus recognize the crucial difference; this time, the wards weren't telling him to leave.

They were telling him,  _begging_ him, to stay. With as open arms as a fae ward could muster for an elf, they peeled away from the chute, and the metal stayed cold and lifeless around him as he climbed down. He could feel the ship still reaching for him, out of habit, as she hovered; she felt the wrongness in the air, same as Sportacus did, same as his crystal did.

But only Sportacus could smell the rank odor of chlorine and blood as he dropped down the ladder into Robbie's house.

Only Sportacus could feel his heart skip a beat in horror as he beheld an entire wall of the house, torn to splinters, glass shattered on the floor as a cold breeze wafted in from the sewers. All around him he could hear Robbie's wards whispering, fragmented and garbled, spinning with urgency and despair.

The scent of chlorine and cinnamon and blood was almost overpowering, and Sportacus clenched his jaw as he beheld the hole in the wall, and remembered-

-red, blue, black, gold.

It'd come.

It'd come and it'd  _taken Robbie._

Without even thinking, Sportacus let his fingernails lengthen and sharpen into claws, and for the first time in a long time, his magic  _woke._ All at once the darkness around Robbie's house turned bright, like with one of Pixel's night-vision goggles. Sportacus's nose curled as the scents became stronger, denser -  _present_ enough for him to find a trail, and follow.

Down the sewer, there were colors.

He could see them even through the metal - not enough to know where, just that they were there at all.

"Robbie, I'm coming," he whispered, and charged into the tunnel.

 

* * *

 

_Sky-Blue??_

Too soon. Too fast.

What had the Purple done??

**_Too soon._ **

They moved faster. 

 

* * *

 

Robbie must've blacked out at some point as the monster was dragging him, because the next thing he knew, the feeling of cold water hitting his face jarred him awake fast enough to give him whiplash. A garish red glow stained the pipes around him, interrupted every now and again by a half-dead light bulb in the ceiling. 

It took all of a few seconds for him to notice the pain in his leg. At first it'd just been in his calf, but now his whole left leg felt on fire. It was worst just above his ankle, where he could feel needle-like  _things_ piercing the skin and muscle. 

Twisting around, Robbie squinted through dried tears and bits of mud and found the grotesque mass in the dark, still hunched over with its teeth in his leg. The dragging had slowed to a crawl, giving Robbie time to think in between being hauled through dry patches of cobblestone and canals of sludgy dark liquid that he was hesitant to call 'water'. 

He didn't know how much time had passed - not much. He'd blacked out, but his head was still relatively clear, so any blood loss - any blood loss wasn't too bad, not yet, anyway.

It was dark. Dark and cold and  _reeking._

The creature was takinghim somewhere. A lair, probably.

And most significantly, no elf to be seen, backflipping heroically into view. 

Robbie didn't want to draw  _too_ many conclusions from that; he didn't know how long it'd been since he'd screamed, maybe the elf was on his way, but maybe he wasn't, maybe he hadn't heard at all, maybe Robbie's wards had been right all along and he couldn't be trusted and  _wasn't coming._

Maybe, maybe, maybe. There were too many  _maybes._

_Maybe_  the elf - maybe  _Sportacus_ was coming.  _Maybe_  the creature was two seconds away from eating Robbie.  _Maybe_  he was about to pass out again.

There was only one absolute, in all of this:

Robbie was  _awake._

He was awake, and his leg  _hurt,_ and he was cold and wet and  _angry_ and - he didn't want to admit it, but he was  _scared._

Sportacus wasn't here. On his way or not, he  _wasn't here._

The monster huffed and snorted and paused for a moment at an intersection of tunnels, and that was when Robbie made his move. 

Lashing out with one hand, Robbie mouthed the fae-speech word for _sharp_ and aimed for the creature's leg, a defective limb twisted and bent, with a foot that seemed halfway gangrenous. Conjuring every painful visual he could - needles, glass, thorns, scalpels, rusted nails - he grabbed the monster with all his strength and braced as a reverberating pulse of purple spread from his palm.

As soon as his hand touched the creature, it reared its head back and howled a guttural sound that was _almost_ human.

Feeling its teeth rip free of his leg, Robbie pulled himself out of the slick water and grime surrounding him and locked eyes onto the nearest tunnel. Squeezing his eyes shut against the pain searing through his calf, he bolted from the monster as it screeched.

He made it two stumbling steps before something heavy slammed into his back, hard enough to knock the breath from his lungs and force him down face-first into the water. Letting out a strangled scream, Robbie felt his breath escape in bubbles around his face, as sharp claws drove into his back, raking down his spine.

The water turned sour with the taste of blood.

 

* * *

 

Sportacus heard the scream in the distance, down a tunnel on his right. 

_No, no, Robbie, hold on-!!_

His aura hardened around him, like a beetle's exoskeleton, a shivering cocoon of blue and white. 

He could make it, he could make it-

The tunnel shuddered with a thunderous roar.

 

* * *

 

The Purple's thrashing was growing weaker beneath them.

**_Let off, let off, stop-_ **

_No-_

_**YES-**  
_

A part of them, tinted Blackened-Blue, screeched in warning, and together they smelled - grass, bread, apples.

.  
.  
_**S̛͚̥̯̱̝̖̎͐̓̕͜͝Ķ̴̱͇̩̫͉͛̆̔̓͂̚͜͡Ỹ̶̛̙̞͔̬͔̾͘͜͟͞͞͝ͅ-̨̠̘̮̬̀̏̌͐͛̉̾͌̈ͅB̶͓̻̰̙̫̺̝̿̽͋̄̍̽̏L̨͈̦̤̻͉̞͊̓̌͢͡͡U̡̨̼̰̠͊͒͛͒͞Ȩ̶͇̳̼̞̯̫̓̽̇͑̈́̿͊̔̿**_  
.  
.

Something flipped through the air behind them, and then a burst of blinding sunlight filled the tunnel.

 

* * *

 

Sportacus hadn't used magic since he'd last practiced with his cousin - he used pieces here and there, sometimes, to make his legs just that much faster, and to shield his bones from shattering when he jumped from the airship, but that was practically second nature, a reflex he didn't even need to  _think_ about anymore. 

Full elvish magic, on the other hand-

Well, it wasn't as if he'd had occasion to really  _use_ it. 

Sportacus came sprinting into a tunnel intersection in time to see one of Robbie's arms flail out of the water, and the whole tunnel coated in a seething red light from the deformed crystal on the monster's back.

It hadn't seen him.

He only had seconds to think.

It'd come out at night, it  _lived_ in the sewers, and he wasn't sure he'd ever seen it blink-

His hands began to burn. Leaping forward, Sportacus couldn't think of anything else but Robbie, growing still in the water, unable to breathe.

He thought of the sun, scathing hot and beaming through the windows of his airship, thought of summer and heat and-

There was no shape to it, like with fairy magic. 

Sportacus's claws sank into the monster's back, just as it turned, and sunlight exploded into the tunnel. The monster recoiled with a pained howl, ripping its hands off Robbie's back and whipping around to face Sportacus. Its dark mass absorbed the light in seconds, its crystal pulsing like a heartbeat. 

But it was enough.

Sportacus heard a gasp on the other side of the creature, followed by a cough.

"Robbie!!" Sportacus shouted. He couldn't see the man, but- "Robbie,  _run!!"_

The creature advanced on Sportacus, screeching like a rabid animal. Sportacus forced himself to look anywhere but its face, hands still tingling from the sunlight spell as he sprang backwards down the tunnel, luring the monster away from Robbie.

Glancing upwards, Sportacus spotted the rebar jutting out from the creature's spine, and as it passed beside a twisted grate, he flung both hands out in front of him, twisted at the wrist, and then yanked backwards.

The metal in the walls groaned.

A half-second later, the rebar inside the creature wrenched to one side, dragging it down towards the grate.

_"Pull,"_ Sportacus whispered in elvish, keeping his eyes anywhere but the monster's face as it howled.

One leg slipped out beneath the creature, and the rebar wove between the grate. The creature struggled, swiping out two arms towards Sportacus, but for the moment - and who knew how long that moment would last - it was trapped.

_"Hold."_

But already Sportacus could see its mossy skin straining around the rebar.

It wouldn't stay  _held_ for long. Eventually it would tear itself free.

Turning from the monster, the taste of bile distant in the back of his throat, Sportacus looked to the water channel where the creature had been standing.

Robbie was gone.

 

* * *

 

Robbie didn't know how or why the creature let him go. All he knew was he could  _breathe_ again, and move, and like  _hell_ was he going to waste a chance like that. The monster had turned its back on him, for one reason or another, and he  _thought_ he heard someone yell for him to run, so run he did.

Struggling to his feet, Robbie squinted against the pain in his leg and limped down the sewer, as fast he could.

The monster's roar felt like it was coming from the very walls around him. He remembered - something, a light, maybe a bulb in the ceiling overheated - the monster letting go. Robbie could still feel blood dripping down his back as he stumbled down a dark corridor, cold water soaking into every scrap of fabric on his body.

What was left of his wards weakly murmured,  _behind._

_That_ threw Robbie into a panic.

Behind?? Behind  _him?  
_

He couldn't hear it, but maybe - what if it was just letting him run for amusement, what if he hadn't gotten away at all-

Robbie tripped over the edge of the water channel and came crashing down knees-first onto the concrete. Biting down on his arm to choke down a scream, he stared through the dark with wild eyes, trying to find where the darkness in the sewer met the darkness of the monster's hide. 

What he found instead was a small drainage pipe, with a loose grate hanging off to one side. 

The monster's bellowing sounded distant, but that could be a lie, everything was always a lie, wasn't it, of course it was a liar, it had  _her face-_

Robbie scrambled for the grate as his wards whispered of a shape coming down the tunnel after him. Dragging himself into the cramped pipe, ignoring the searing pain in his leg, Robbie hooked his fingers through the half-rusted metal and pulled it over the pipe exit behind him. The space was barely bigger than the mailboxes in Lazytown, and he collapsed shivering in four inches of freezing sewer water.

Something walked past the grate, too fast for Robbie to see it, and he clamped a hand over his mouth. 

_It knows it knows it **knows**_ _I'm here-_

"Robbie?"

...maybe he'd hallucinated.

It was stupid to call for the elf, of course he wouldn't show up, why should he? The monster nearly killed him once and Robbie wasn't worth risking that again-

Robbie didn't realize he'd let out a whimper until the shape came back and crouched outside the grate, and a pair of baby blue eyes looked through. They softened as soon as they spotted him shivering in the dark, and fingers curled through the grate and started to pull it back.

On instinct, Robbie reached out and tugged the grate inwards.  _No, no you can't, you can't get me-_

"Robbie," the elf whispered softly, "please, let me-"

"Leave me alone," Robbie hiccuped. The elf's aura was bright and it  _hurt._

Slowly, the colors died down, just a bit, and the elf pressed his other hand to the grate. "Robbie, I don't know how long that thing is going to stay where I left it-" Another roar shook the sewer, and Robbie whimpered again, "-so we need to leave." When Robbie didn't answer, the elf sighed quietly, and said, "You called for me, didn't you?"

Robbie froze. Nodded slowly.

"I heard you, Robbie. I'm here. My airship's right above your house, we're not far - we need to go  _now."_

_It's out there, it's **out there-**_

Robbie shook his head weakly.

"You helped me, Robbie," Sportacus pleaded gently, "now let me help you."

The elf tried to move the grate again. Robbie didn't try to stop him. Sportacus set the old piece of junk metal down in the water, and extended an arm down the pipe towards Robbie.

"Are you hurt?"

Robbie nodded. "...leg."

Sportacus pursed his lips, and Robbie feared the elf might leave him there, what use was a broken fairy-

"Just take my hand, I'll help you."

Slowly, Robbie reached out and took the elf's hand, eyeing it warily as Sportacus gently tugged him out of the pipe and lifted him to his feet. With the way Robbie was hunching over, shivering like a half-drowned rat, he almost stood eye to eye with the elf - the burning, incandescent elf. 

The tunnels shuddered again, and the roars of the monster went quiet.

Sportacus met Robbie's eyes and without a word hooked both arms underneath Robbie's shoulders and legs, and lifted him into the air like he weighed nothing at all. Robbie wrapped his arms around the elf's neck, not caring about how he  _should_ feel about being carried like a child and caring more about the fact that  _Sportacus head him, and came to find him._

Sportacus splashed through the sewer as he ran.

"...do you know where you're going??" Robbie rasped after a minute of running.

Sportacus shrugged as best he could as he skidded to a halt and turned left. "I can see my ship. She's close."

"You can-"

"She has an aura, too."

Robbie shut up promptly, digesting this information and finding - well, exactly no uses for it. Finally, after a moment's consideration, he asked, "Can you - can you see the monster?"

Sportacus shook his head, and Robbie hadn't really been expected a different answer, but he still made sure to feel disappointed anyway. "It's like - a dark fog. If it's close, the world just feels - wrong. And I can see its colors when its near, but when it doesn't want to be seen... I can't."

Robbie pressed his head into the crook of the elf's neck and muttered, "Of course, that would make this  _easy,_ wouldn't it."

Sportacus chuckled in the dark. 

Another two minutes passed, and in the corner of his eye Robbie spotted a light from down a side tunnel. Sportacus turned sharply towards it, and in seconds they emerged into the grotto. Robbie's house still shone bright as ever, despite the hole in the wall, and Robbie heard the house wards keening for him as they approached, and he almost let himself smile.

When they reached the ladder to the surface, Sportacus set Robbie down, and Robbie looped his arms through the ladder runs. The elf gave him a worried once-over in the light and asked, "Do you think you can climb up?"

Robbie shrugged. "It's not that bad."

Sportacus leveled him with a skeptical stare, but didn't argue. "You go up first. Once we're in the ship I can try and patch your leg up properly-"

"Wait, we're going in your ship??"

"...it's not like I live anywhere else."

Robbie groaned and dropped his head against a rung. "Fine," he grumbled, easing his way onto the ladder and hopping up on his good leg, one rung at a time. "But," he added, glancing down at Sportacus as he entered the chute, "if you go more than  _five miles an hour_ while I'm up there-"

The words cut off strangled in his throat. Sportacus looked at him curiously, clearly not seeing the  _three pieces of rebar_ poised behind him like snakes.

"SPORTACUS, _MOVE!!"_ Robbie shrieked.

The rebar lashed out, wrapped around Sportacus's legs, and pulled him down so fast his head smacked against the ladder. Robbie saw blood ooze from the elf's temple, and Sportacus looked up at him with a half-closed eye and shouted, "Robbie, get to the ship, she'll-"

The rebar pulled the elf away faster than Robbie could blink.

The house wards screamed again, and Robbie squeezed his eyes shut and scrambled up the ladder.

 

* * *

 

The vine-like rebar dragged Sportacus down the tunnel, away from the light and away from Robbie and away from  _safety-_

He struggled against the coils around his leg, and they only tightened, ribs of metal digging around his skin nearly hard enough to crack bone. In a panic he tried to reach for the rebar, reach and  _tell_ it to let him go, but it wouldn't listen. It was as deaf to his voice as trees and roots.

_Why, why aren't you **listening-!**_

The dragging stopped. Before Sportacus had a chance to try and run or rip himself loose, a clawed hand sank into his shoulder, twisting him around to stand upright and face the monster.

He didn't have a chance to look away.

Its eyes were golden and bright, and so was its crystal.

The rebar released his leg, but it was too late. Sportacus couldn't move as the monster pinned him to the wall. 

Sportacus could only let out a faint, desperate croak before he felt papercuts inside his mouth.

The monster dropped its arm from his shoulder, and the rebar retracted into its body. Sportacus stood limp and shivering against the wall, mouth gaping open a bit, stinging with phantom cuts again. 

_How did you - how did you -_

The monster turned its head, and its tongue - a lump of blackened flesh, like intestines and roots all together - lolled out of its mouth as its head hovered only an inch from Sportacus.

"We know your tricks."

Tears pricked the edges of Sportacus's eyes.

The words weren't coming from the monster.

"The metal won't save you and neither will Sweetheart."

Sportacus knew the voice that spoke the words. Had known it all his life.

The papercuts in his mouth shaped themselves around his tongue and lips and-

_-his_ voice.

"Follow us, Tíu," Sportacus said as tears crawled down his cheeks.

The creature turned down the tunnel.

Sportacus's legs and body and  _voice -_ no longer his own, no matter how much he screamed at them to _listen to him -_  followed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *chucks update at the wall and runs* I'M SORRY ~~but not really~~ IM SORRY
> 
> I fucked up a perfectly good elf is what I did. Look at him. He's got anxiety.
> 
> Well, at least we now know what was up with all that Little Mermaid nonsense that was happening a few chapters ago...


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would keep apologizing for the cliffhangers but at this point let's face it this story is always going to have way too many of them xD

_Move, Robbie, **move.**_

Gods damn it, his leg hurt  _so fucking bad._ He hadn't even noticed up until now, but it felt like someone had put a whole colony of fire ants inside his shin, and then maybe some battery acid for good measure. Halfway up the ladder, he paused for just a half a second, just to catch his breath before he climbed the rest of the way, hopping on his one good leg and straining the arms that weren't used to moving so quickly.

 _MOVE!!_ the house wards screeched. 

"Fine!!" Robbie snapped through sweat and mud and possibly also tears, though he wasn't sure yet. "I'm going!"

He could feel them simmering at the back of his neck as he crawled up towards the surface hatch. As he reached the top of the ladder, he became distantly aware of a sound like mice running over a tarp, or buttons falling on the floor.

Fearing a return of the rebar, Robbie shoved the hatch open, and rain came pouring down on his head. The feeling of  _clean_ water, droplets upon hundreds of cold droplets, was almost enough to make him freeze up halfway out of the hatch. Gritting his teeth, Robbie eased forward and slipped free of the cute, letting the hatch slam closed behind him... sealing both the monster, and Sportacus, in the sewer.

Robbie sat crumpled on the ground, shaking under the rain, tracing through the last hour of his life in his head in mute horror.

Claws in his back-

Sportacus  _came to save him, like a fucking idiot-_

They were almost  _fucking free-_

Robbie's head drooped, and he stared at the ground as a shuddering gasp cut past his teeth. It wasn't a sob, not yet - he had  _some_ dignity left, or so he hoped - but it was weak and  _pathetic_ and it was  _fucking cold._

Ship.

Sportacus said to get to the ship.

Robbie craned his head up backwards, squinting at the dark clouds in the sky.

Where was the fucking  _ship._

Robbie turned his squint towards the hatch beside him. "Great! You fucking - you make me go all the way up here, and you - and it's fucking  _raining_ and your ship isn't even  _here -"_ Without thinking, Robbie threw his arm out, and his fist cracked against the pipe. His wrist twisted in a direction that Robbie gathered it wasn't biologically intended to go, and a spike of pain shot up through his arm. Doubling over and clutching the hand to his chest, Robbie snarled, "You're fucking useless, Sportacus, fucking useless!" 

The rain could've been playing tricks on him, but-

-no, no those were tears.

Stupid. Even his goddamn body was turning on him, the elf was  _useless_ and Robbie shouldn't even  _care-_

A metallic groan echoed behind Robbie's back. 

Spinning on his knees in terror, Robbie's vision swam as he tried to find the source of the sound, but before he could see anything through the growing rainstorm, he felt a rush of air over his head, and a rattle that shook the foundry scrap around him. Something came careening out of the sky, grinding into the ground just beside the billboard, and a blinding fluorescent light suddenly pierced through the rain. 

Over a dull loudspeaker, he heard,  _"Robbie, it is not safe here. Come with me."_

Robbie flinched. The voice was - well, not  _human_ by any stretch, though it sounded somewhere in the ballpark of female, cut through with a digital tone. He shaded his eyes against the light and found himself looking at an ovoid blue and white behemoth of a vehicle, sitting on the ground for quite possibly the first time  _ever,_ or at least the first time he'd seen.

Also for the first time, Robbie was  _glad_ to see the airship.

Even if the fact that  _it could talk_ was more than a little off-putting. 

Slowly standing, Robbie limped across the metal sheeting and down into the grass, feeling it squelch beneath him as he stumbled, awash in pure white light, towards the open door in the side of the ship. He couldn't, for the life of him, figure out really  _why_ he was listening to the ship, or Sportacus for that matter, but there was no way in  _hell_ he was going back down into his house.

So.

Robbie all but bellyflopped into the ship, as it didn't even wait for the door to close before its engine gunned and it lifted off the ground with a lurch. Curling around his arm, leg still throbbing, Robbie didn't move until he felt the ship level off, engine quieting to a hum as it hovered who  _knows_ how high in the air. Even after it stopped ascending, he stayed curled up and shivering for at least another minute, until he heard the ship speak again.

 _"You are hurt,"_ it - or she? - stated.

"Your deductive skills are on par with the elf's, apparently," Robbie grumbled weakly, slowly sitting up on the stark white floor. Immediately upon glancing around the interior of the ship, he was struck by the sheer amount of  _paper_ covering the floor. And he thought  _his_ house was a mess.

_"Deductive expertise notwithstanding, Robbie, you are in need of medical attention."_

Robbie glared up into the air. "Since when were we on a first-name basis?" he muttered just before a cough crawled up through his lungs.

_"Would you prefer Mr. Rotten?"_

Robbie bit his lip. "...no."

 _"Then it seems both Sportacus and I have sufficient deductive skills, as he assumed you would prefer your first name,"_ the ship said, in a tone that could almost be taken as haughty, despite the digital inflections.  _"You may refer to me either as Loftskip or Ship in the future."_

"Why are you even  _helping_ me?" Robbie hissed defensively. The ship's conversational attitude and eerie detachment and - and  _everything_ was just so horrendously off-putting, how could she be so  _calm,_ it was pretty damn obvious that Sportacus wasn't  _with_ Robbie, so just how long would the ship keep up its little polite charade before it realized what Robbie had  _done??_

_"You are in danger, and injured."_

"Oh, so you're an  _altruistic_ talking elvish spaceship," Robbie growled, trying to rock onto his knees and only getting far enough to reassure himself that _yes_ , his leg was indeed torn to shreds. And still bleeding into his pants. And onto the floor a bit.

Was his vision always this blurry?

 _"A person in peril is a person in peril. However, Sportacus did specify that I should keep you safe, were he unable to do so."_ There was a pause, and then,  _"I am currently detecting fluctuations in your vital signs."_

Oh, gods, the airship was turning wobbly. "What's  _that_ supposed to mean??" Robbie croaked.

 _"You are passing out."_ Something creaked somewhere in the ship.  _"You have sustained considerable blood loss and exposure to the cold, as well as potential magical effects that I cannot account for at this time."_

Robbie shook his head sluggishly, dragging himself across the floor through a sea of half-crumpled parchment. "No, just - I can fix this, I just need a few minutes, I'm fine-"

 _"I am equipped with basic medical equipment,"_ the ship said.  _"Any magical damage will have to be assessed by yourself after you wake up, but I can deal with the physical damage."_

Robbie swatted the air in the vague direction of the voice. "I'm not  _passing out,_ I'm  _fine,_ don't you dare go poking around my body - you'll probably just kill me in my sleep anyway!"

He could've sworn the ship  _tutted_ at him.  _"I would not harm you."_

"Oh, right, because  _Sportacus-"_

_"Yes."_

The ship was so  _painfully_ white, and slowly turning perpendicular on the insides - or maybe that was Robbie. He hadn't been lying on the floor a moment ago, had he??

"Why are you worrying about  _me,"_ Robbie whispered as his vision dulled. "Your stupid elf is still down there with that  _thing-"_

_The thing with her face, her face, **her face-**_

_"I cannot help Sportacus now,"_ the ship answered, and even Robbie could hear just the barest touch of sadness in her electronic voice.  _"You take priority now."_

_Liar liar **liar-**_

_"Sleep, Robbie. You will be safe here."_

Robbie couldn't even find the strength to mutter a single word in response to that  _absolute pile of bullshit, he wasn't safe here it was a fucking blimp in the sky-_

"If I wake up and I'm dead," he rasped through a violent shiver, "tell the elf - tell 'im I'm gonna kill his stupid fucking face."

 _"I will let him know,"_ the ship said.  _"Now sleep."_

The ship turned upside down around Robbie and within seconds he couldn't feel anything anymore. 

 

* * *

 

As soon as Robbie dropped unconscious, the ship got to work. Moving him off the floor and onto the bed was simple enough - she had her ways - and she focused on his leg for the time being. His wrist, while broken, could be ignored for now. The blood loss was a greater threat, as was sepsis and other forms of infection.

She put at least three different subroutines in place just to keep herself from directing her scanners towards the sewers of Lazytown.

Had it not been for explicit instruction from Sportacus, she would've afforded Robbie only the barest minimum of attention. Sportacus was, after all, her priority, but in this case she allowed herself only one projection.

_Probability of Admin_SPRCS10's return:_

_0.22.7 %_

She would have run the simulation again and again, if she'd had the time - there were other factors she may not have accounted for the first time, other anomalies to consider, but-

Robbie's heart rate stuttered.

The ship filed the statistic in the deepest part of her memory banks and began to dress Robbie's wounds.

 

* * *

 

_"Robbie, run-"_

_"Let me help you-"_

_"We need to go-"_

_"Are you hurt?"_

_"Robbie, run-"_

_"RUN-"_

Robbie sat upright with a strangled gasp as the nightmare faded. As he slowly regained his bearings, he noticed three things;

One, his leg didn't hurt anymore. It ached, for sure, but the piercing pain was gone.

Two, as soon as he shifted around, he heart the squish of a mattress, and felt soft cotton bedsheets around his legs.

Three - and he realized this as soon as he tried to move his arms - one arm was heavier than the other, wrapped up in either a sheet or a metric fuckton of gauze, and pressed to his chest in a makeshift splint.

_"You are awake."_

Robbie jumped at the sound of the ship's voice. Rubbing his face with his still-functional left hand, he glowered through the strangely dark interior of the ship, trying to get a fix on where the voice was coming from. "...how long was I out?"

 _"Three and a half hours."_ The lights came on steadily, and Robbie blinked around at the still  _astounding_ amount of paper scattered around the room.  _"I applied stitches to your leg and provided a temporary cast for your wrist. If you would like to apply magical healing, I would suggest doing so after you have had an opportunity to rest longer."_

Three and a half hours. 

Dropping his legs over the side of the bed - which had to belong to the elf, he realized as his cheeks grew inexplicably warm - Robbie tested putting weight onto his leg as he asked, "Did the - did Sportacus come back??"

 _"Not yet."_ Before Robbie could get a word in edgewise, she said,  _"There is nothing either of us can do now. As you are no longer in critical condition my scanners are directed towards the sewer. Your time would be best served by getting some sleep."_

"'Nothing you can do'?" Robbie parroted scathingly. "He's  _your_ goddamn elf, you can't - you can't just  _leave_ him down there-"

_"Do not doubt that I worry for him. However, he gave instructions to prioritize your safety above his."_

"But _why?_?"Robbie exclaimed.

_"I would not presume to know. Now, please, Robbie, try to get some sleep."_

Robbie scowled and stuck his middle finger into the air. 

 _"Robbie, I am not uncultured,"_ the ship said.  _"I do happen to know what that gesture implies."_

"Oh, thank god, and here I thought I wasted all that effort for nothing," Robbie muttered, hopping off the bed and wobbling on one foot over to the wall. Bracing himself against it, he glanced around at the eerily bare walls of the ship and asked, "Do you have anything edible that  _isn't_ a fruit or a vegetable?"

_"...I have some gluten-free crackers."_

Robbie's lip curled, and he reminded himself that he should probably be grateful that the elf even had  _those._ "Fine, I'll take them."

A moment later, a hole opened up in the one of the opposing walls, and a sleeve of crackers flew out towards Robbie's face. Ducking with a yelp, he slid down to the floor as the crackers sailed over his head and landed softly on the bed. Flipping another finger at the ship, he scooted over and tore into the packaging, not caring that he got crumbs all over the elf's bedsheets. 

After wolfing down a third of the crackers - which didn't taste  _awful,_ all things considered, just a little bit stale - Robbie took his first decent look around the ship. Last time he'd been there, it'd been annoyingly clean, and impossible to steer or hijack or blow up or  _anything._ Although he did nearly ram it into the tallest building in Lazytown one time. _That_ was fun. 

...well, fun up until the ship's floor opened up and he fell out. And almost hit the ground. And Sportacus-

Robbie hadn't shown his face up above ground for a  _week_ after that little embarrassment. It was almost as bad as that time he got stuck in the tree, although that time with the ship, at least the kids hadn't been around to mock Robbie as Sportacus held him. No, it was just the elf giving him that little lower-lip pucker like a sad puppy, and a question about whether Robbie was hurt or not.

"Stupid fucking elf," Robbie growled, nudging one of the pieces of paper near his working foot.

The paper's edges curled, and for the first time he spotted words on them. 

Robbie blinked. 

...so, it wasn't just that the elf got uncharacteristically sloppy. 

Robbie looked warily around at all the paper, and it slowly dawned on him that they were letters. Hundreds of them. Some were yellowed to the point of illegibility with age, some looked to be in  _slightly_ better condition, but all had some manner of dust coating and all were old - how old, he couldn't tell.

Gulping, Robbie wondered just how far the ship's 'protocol' about protecting him extended, and if she would throw him out if he read the letters.

After a moment, he reached down and grabbed the nearest, figuring that at this point, the elf owed him an explanation, and he wasn't going to get a personal one from Sportacus, now was he?

Narrowing his eyes at the paper, Robbie's scowl deepened.

"Of fucking course it's in Elvish," he grumbled, crumpling the letter and tossing it away. Inching across the floor, not bothering to try standing up again, Robbie sifted through the letters, all the while waiting for the ship to stop him - and if she  _really_ didn't want him nosing around in Sportacus's private life, she  _would_ stop him, wouldn't she?

The ship remained silent, save for her engine humming, and Robbie kept looking. The handwriting was unrecognizable, stilted and tall, and it almost hurt to look at some of the oldest letters, the yellowed ones written in pure, simple Elvish. The only patterns Robbie picked up on were names, two different ones at the beginning and end of every letter, and occasionally a third in between.

As he searched through the letters that seemed more recent, Robbie noticed the short paragraphs became speckled through with bits of English, words he could understand here and there. Raising a brow at the absolute  _ocean_ of paper around him, Robbie started searching for all the letters that seemed the newest, and sure enough, the newer the letter, the easier it was to understand. Only a handful had no Elvish at all, so those were the ones he examined.

The first one he read was short enough.

 

 

> _Lítillblá,_
> 
> _I'm sorry I did not reply sooner, I was in a bit of trouble and the balloon needed some downtime for me to fix it. I'll be back soon, I promise - we need to move again, so be ready._
> 
> _Thank you also for telling me about the Order. I'll handle them if they come asking questions again._
> 
> _I hope you and Loftskip are well._
> 
> _\- Níu_

_Lítillblá..._ the word seemed Icelandic, the more Robbie looked it over, which made sense, in a weird way. As far as he knew, elves liked to live in cold, mountainous places, and Iceland tended to have at least an above-average elf population, if the books were to be trusted. He still didn't have a clue as to what it meant, but he could only assume it referred to Sportacus. As for the rest of the letter... well, that was both easier to understand, and harder to stomach. The churning in Robbie's gut started up as soon as he read the word 'balloon', though he couldn't say for sure  _why._

It was when he got to the end that his heart started thundering in his chest.

_Níu._

He knew that one. Even if it took a moment to remember.

_Nine._

Robbie set the letter down as fast as humanly possible and reached for another. Strangely, by the time he was reading it, he noticed his hand was trembling. Skimming over the page frantically, Robbie could barely hear the sound of his own breath above the rustling of the letters as he read halfway though one and then tossed it aside to find another, straining his eyes to find anything that would prove him  _right._

 

 

> _Lítillblá,_
> 
> _I know you want to help, but please, just stay safe. I'll come home soon. Two days._
> 
> _He got away. Again._
> 
> _- Níu_
> 
> _P.S - please tell Loftskip I'm fine and she doesn't need to put me under house arrest when I get back._

No, no, that still - that still didn't  _prove_ anything-

Robbie almost gave himself a paper cut, clinging to the next letter as hard as he did.

 

 

> _Lítillblá,_
> 
> _I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I know I said I'd be back in two days - gods, I'm sorry._
> 
> _Sometimes I wonder if he's worth it._
> 
> _- Níu_

Robbie grabbed another letter.

 

 

> _He's always alone, why doesn't he just let me help him - I'm sorry, I shouldn't tell you all this, you don't need to worry, I promise._

Another.

 

 

> _I lost him again._
> 
> _I should just leave him._

"God dammit, don't you elves write  _names??"_ Robbie snarled weakly. He needed to know, it was just a thought but it was such a  _bad_ thought if we was  _right-_

Oh, what he wouldn't give to be  _wrong_ for once.

 

 

> _Lítillblá,_
> 
> _Of **course** I don't care about Glanni more than you, but - I  **know**_ _you're safe, I know the ship's looking after you and I know you're okay, but he's - he doesn't **have** anyone, and there are so many people he's made angry. If one of them catches up to him before I do, if I - if I leave him, he'll get himself killed, you understand? _
> 
> _You know I'm supposed to help people. I've helped everyone else already, there's - there's no one left but him. He may not see it, but I - I don't want him to get hurt. Please understand. I love you both, so much. Once this is over, I promise I'll stay for good and teach you everything and I won't leave again, I promise._
> 
> _I love you, litla frænda, don't ever forget that._
> 
> _- Níu_

Robbie bit his lip so hard it bled, and the letter fell from his trembling hand without a sound. Pulling his legs up to his chest, he curled his one good arm around his knees, pressing his face into his elbow, squeezing his eyes shut as his chest tightened.

_"Robbie, you are hyperventilating. What do you need to calm yourself?"_

His jaw clenched. Raising his head slowly, he fixed a withering glare on the walls, feeling the edges of his eyes start to burn. "What do I  _need?"_ he echoed in a hiss. Grabbing the letter, he waved it in the air, wincing as he sat up too fast and shifted his wrist in the sling. "What I  _need_ is - is - I don't know, some kind of  _explanation!"_ Crunching the letter into a ball, he threw it at the ceiling, and it fell down before even getting a chance to impact. "He should've - that fucking - he  _knew_ the whole fucking time, didn't he?! He knew what happened and he just - he didn't - he  _lied_ to me!!"

_"You were trying to drive him out of town. You did not give him many chances to talk about anything-"_

"I wouldn't  _have_ to try and drive him out if his fucking cousin hadn't killed Glanni and my _mother!!"_ Robbie screamed. Purple sputtered feebly around his fingers, barely bright enough for his eyes to register it - although that may have been due less to the weakness of his magic, and more to the fresh tears pooling in his eyes. "This whole time he's been pretending to give a damn about me, after what Íþróttaálfurinn did to my family-"

_"Sportacus did not know."_

"Bull _shit,"_ Robbie snapped. 

_"This is the last letter we ever received from Íþró."_

'Íþró'. Robbie wanted to scoff, but his throat was too tight and his lips were trembling too much, and all he could do was watch with blurry vision as a part of the floor raised up, becoming a tiny podium, with a single letter on the top. Morbid curiosity overcoming him, Robbie inched over and snatched the letter up, smearing his face on his sleeve before he read what little there was to be seen.

This letter's handwriting was jagged and sloppy, with a few dark red splotches at the corners of the paper. 

 

 

> _Lítillblá,_
> 
> _I've found Glanni. And the woman who helped him last time we met._
> 
> _Gods, Sport, I never thought - I did something horrible. Loftskip would never forgive me, she'd throw me out in a heartbeat if I came back... this wasn't how it was supposed to happen. I just - I just wanted - she would've killed me, but I shouldn't - I shouldn't have done what I did, but all I could think of was you and what would happen if I didn't come back-_
> 
> _She has a son. A little younger than you, I think..._
> 
> _He was in the house..._
> 
> _Gods, what have I done?_

Just about as Robbie finished reading, he heard the airship say,  _"He did not mention that he was going to Lazytown in any letter or conversation. I knew there was a probability that Lazytown was involved, due to my knowledge of Glanni, however Sportacus was unaware of this fact until very recently. In fact, he only learned because of you."_

Robbie's stomach churned.

Down in his house, after he - after healing Sportacus - he'd mentioned the elf's name, hadn't he? Part of it, at least. But that still-

"You're lying."

_"Sportacus did not take the news well."_

"Oh,  _he_ didn't take the news well??" Robbie scoffed. "Sucks to be him."

_"This may be difficult for you to grasp, but Sportacus was ignorant to his cousin's actions. He can no more be held accountable than you, Robbie. You were only children."_

"We're not children  _now!!"_ Robbie snarled, voice cracking. "How can I - why did I think I could  _trust_ him-"

 _"Not to point out the obvious, but he came to help you."_ The ship's tone seemed to skip, digital feedback leaking into her voice, and Robbie could've sworn the lights in the room flickered.  _"Knowing the truth about what happened here, knowing the involvement of his cousin in what happened to your family, and likely knowing full well what you would think of him, he came to help you when you called."_

"That's just what he  _does-"_

 _"You are important to him, Robbie,"_ the ship stated.  _"And it is unlikely you will believe me about that, so I will not press the matter-"_

"Oh, fuck you."

 _"-simply understand that Sportacus sacrificed himself for you, despite knowing that you would inevitably discover his relation to Íþró, and hate him for it,"_ the ship continued as if Robbie hadn't said anything at all.

"...shut up." Dropping his forehead onto his knees, Robbie fought off a shudder as it ran through his body, but in the end he didn't have the strength, focus, or willpower to keep it at bay for long. A wave of tension seized his body, and released in a faint, cracking sob that whistled in between clenched teeth, and it was all Robbie could do to not break down entirely.

The airship's engine hummed quietly. Robbie remained curled into himself for another five minutes, quietly sobbing until his head ached.

_"Robbie, let me help you-"_

_"Are you hurt?"_

_"Robbie, run-"_

What had the letter said??

_'A boy a little younger than you.'_

Glanni and Robbie's mother had tried to keep him safe, tried everything they could and  _succeeded_ and  _failed_ all at the same time-

Where was Sportacus, when it happened?

Maybe sending out letters that never got a reply, like how Robbie spent the night wandering town, following useless colors and screaming their names. 

"...why did Sportacus come to Lazytown?" Robbie sniffed.

The ship answered gently,  _"He was patrolling blacklisted territories. Our Order decrees certain areas off limits - parts of the world that belong to the fae, or are otherwise magically corrupted. Some heroes are tasked with keeping an eye on human towns in these locations. That is why he was near enough to receive Stephanie's letter."_

Robbie slowly lifted his head out of his knees. The tears in the corners of his eyes dried into crust. "He didn't... he didn't know about me."

 _"Not until the day you called him an elf, and even then he only suspected. He only learned your true nature the same day you told him Íþró's name."_ The ship went quiet for a moment, then said,  _"I will mention, he was quite determined to find if there was any hint he had missed in the letters, anything that might have told his younger self where to find his cousin. And any indication that what you told him about what happened to your mother could be true."_

Robbie's brow furrowed. "...what are you talking about?" he asked warily.

_"For us, this goes without saying, but I am sure you will doubt my honesty - elves are not meant to take a fae's wings. Even during the war, wings and crystals were off limits. At most they may be tampered with, but never destroyed. Sportacus was... disturbed to hear that his cousin could do such a thing. If it is any consolation, I doubt Sportacus would even consider committing such an atrocity."_

Robbie snorted. "Yeah, he made that pretty clear when I told him..." Trailing off, Robbie stared at the letters around him, licking his lower lip and tugging on the longest of his now horribly messed up bangs. All the mess felt too familiar, too similar to his days of trashing his workbench, whenever he felt a bit of his memory of her slipping away, or any time he woke from a particularly bad nightmare about claws and a glowing red crystal.

He remembered the frantic disbelief upon waking up, and remembering he was alone. And then the despair, and the slow acceptance, and the lingering glances at too-dark shadows, hoping that maybe Glanni would step out of them, smirking wryly. 

_"Robbie, let me help you. Please."_

"...I don't hate him," he finally worked up the courage to whisper. "I don't - I don't think so. Anymore. I  _did_ once, but... I don't know now." Side-eyeing the nearest wall, he added, "I still want to punch him, though."

_"Understandable. His lack of a self-preservation instinct is a familial trait that I have often found to be... disconcerting."_

Robbie pressed the back of his hand into his eyes, and his breath shuddered again. Slumping backwards, he splayed out on the floor, keeping his arm over his eyes and trying to find a way to connect one thought to the next.

"...hey, you're a computer, right?" Robbie asked distractedly. "Or are you - I don't know, some elf ghost haunting the ship?"

_"I am an AI. Partially magic and mostly digital. The older models were mostly magic."_

"You do all those fancy calculations, right? Like that Pixel kid does?"

_"Yes."_

Robbie swallowed slowly. "How - what are his chances of coming back??"

The airship was quiet for a long time. Robbie lifted his arm away from his eyes, frowning at the ceiling as he waited for he ship to answer. He felt the engine rumbling through the floor, and for a moment he thought he heard the sound of gears shifting below him.

After five minutes of silence, he said louder, "Ship? Look, if it's that hard, forget I asked."

 _"High,"_ she said suddenly.

Robbie sat up straight. "... _what?"_

On the side of the ship, the door in the wall suddenly slid open. A sharp gust of wind filled the cabin, stirring the letters into a storm. Groping for the wall, Robbie staggered to standing, bracing himself between the bed and the wall as the ship rattled. As he squinted through the whirlwind of papers, he saw a silhouette climb up through the door.

As the door shut, and the wind died down, all the letters fluttered to the floor.

Robbie's eyes went wide as the figure stood, soaking wet, blood smeared on the side of their face.

"...Sportacus??"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess the airship decided she wanted a more prominent role in the story... the Mom role
> 
> Once again, sorry for the cliffy. Terribly sorry. Such apology. Much regret. 
> 
> -
> 
> Hey, so funny story:
> 
> Last night, my sister forgot to put away our ducks. She went outside at 10 o clock to put em in their hut and found a goddamn skunk that killed one of the ducks and was eating it.
> 
> Dad chased it off, but LITERALLY THIS MORNING it was back, SPRAYED OUR DOG, CHASED MY SISTER AND MY DAD, and then hid under the porch. My dad grabbed a handgun and EVEN THOUGH HE SHOT IT it still charged at him three times. 
> 
> It took 45 minutes to get rid of the little punk. I had to go get the shotgun for dad and he gave me the pistol in case the skunk came at me... which it did, after it went to our Quonset hut, and then came at me on the driveway. Thankfully one buckshot round took it down for good.
> 
> Skunks are not usually what I think of when thinking of animals charging at me. We're pretty sure it was rabid.
> 
> So that was the most eventful Tuesday morning ever xD


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH BOY LUCKY CHAPTER 13 CLEARLY ONLY GOOD THINGS CAN HAPPEN
> 
> Quick before all hell breaks loose, Celepom on Tumblr did AMAZING art inspired by last chapter, a whole 3 page comic of Small Boys Crying that i haven't stopped screaming about:
> 
> [Link](http://celepom.tumblr.com/post/159580608352/that-day-based-off-of-the-end-of-we-must-not)

"Follow us, Tíu."

That was-

That was  _his own voice._

Sportacus closed his mouth, and the paper cut sensations swarmed his tongue, hot and burning like his freshly wrenched knee and twisted ankle. Watching the monster turn away and start moving down the tunnel, away from the light and the surface and  _Robbie,_ Sportacus tried to find the energy to pull away and go back the way he'd come, but when his feet started moving, they followed the creature. 

He could hear his crystal shrieking, begging for him to  _run,_ couldn't he see the monster was  _right there-_

Sportacus felt the crystal go quiet first. Next was his aura, dimming down to nothingness the further he walked into the dark. All that remained was the barest trace of night vision, allowing him to see where the creature was going. Even so, he quickly realized that each turn it took... he already  _knew_ which way he would be going. In the back of his mind, like a droning hum, he heard  _left, right, forward,_ in a twisting pattern that left him dazed.

Where was it-

Where was  _he-_

The water splashed around them, the only sound in the gloom audible beyond Sportacus's own frantic heartbeat, and the haggard breathing of the monster. Since it'd turned away, Sportacus hadn't seen its face - and while every time he tried to speak on his own, he felt something akin to invisible gauze filling the inside of his mouth and throat, if he focused just enough, he could still move his fingers.

He slid one thumb claw out and drove the sharp point into his thigh as he and the monster turned a corner in a deeper and even worse-smelling part of the sewer. Slowly tracing a circle, he felt the claw just break the skin, enough to form the simplest of runes, just to get his magic  _moving_ again. 

And move it did. He thought of light again - that seemed to have an effect on the creature - and he glanced down to see a tiny incandescent glow take shape on the surface of his palm. Breath picking up speed ever so slightly, he mentally coaxed the flame to grow, enough to send it spiraling towards the monster's face, maybe enough to distract it-

Sportacus's lips and tongue moved. A single word came out in the Icelandic he barely used anymore, but it was enough.

"Hætta."

_Cease._

The flame died. Sportacus mouth stayed open, useless and turning dry, as he heard his voice say, "Do not."

_Gods, it could even-_

How could it break through his aura so quickly?? Nothing - no creature known to either elves  _or_ fae was capable of this. At most, he knew elves could get a sense of who someone was, by looking through their aura and examining what a person knew about themselves, and fae - fae knew the ins and outs of wards in a way that even elves couldn't understand, but  _nothing_ could get through a person's aura and  _into_ their mind this way.

Pookas could lure humans into water, hags could make you forget which door you came through, sirens could make you  _want..._ but that was all against  _humans_ , against unwarded children, or careless fools.

This thing - this thing picked its way past Sportacus's wards like they weren't even there and made a home inside his aura. Second by second, each time he tried to fight, the papercuts came surging up his throat, and his body obeyed whatever the  _monster_ was thinking. As if he wasn't there at all, just a detached ghost inhabiting his own body-

Sportacus stumbled against a loose chunk of concrete and came crashing down to his knees. Ahead, the creature halted, and glanced back at him.

Meeting its gaze, Sportacus tried as hard as he could to  _close his damn mouth,_ but all he managed to accomplish was saying, "Keep up."

 _Where??_ his thoughts swam.  _Where are we going, **why-**_

"Soon enough," Sportacus said, teeth chattering against the damp, moldy air. "Understand."

_Understand **what?!**_

"Follow us," Sportacus grated out, breath hot and heavy. Standing slowly, he hobbled onto the driest part of the tunnel and continued after the creature, turning down another dark passage. At least another dozen left and right turns later, he felt a shift in the air pressure, abrupt enough to make his ears pop. Squinting through the dark, he saw the tunnel open up into an intersection.

The ground beneath him changed.

Instead of splashing and the harsh  _tap-tap_ of concrete, Sportacus heard the telltale  _squish_ of mud. Looking down, he found the floor of the sewer had turned into a layer of thick mud, at least an inch deep. Two of the branching tunnels ahead of him were blocked off by dirt and stone and rubble, leaving only the way behind him and a pipe to his left.

The monster walked to the center of the room and tilted its head backwards. Sportacus felt the disturbing sensation of something grabbing his hair, wrenching his neck, forcing him to stare upwards to a ceiling that was nothing but a huge, gaping hole, leading upwards at least ten feet before ending. Clumps of dirt fell down from the hole every other second.

His head was allowed to drop back down a moment later, and the monster was facing him.

"This is where we were born," Sportacus said in a stilted tone. The monster shuffled towards him, reaching one hand up to its many-mouthed face, parting its matted hair to show both its mismatched eyes. "No... no name," Sportacus breathed in tune with a sharp growl from the creature. "Something once. Gone." The creature looked upwards again, and this time it let Sportacus stay still to speak. "Forgotten with the dead Keeper."

Sportacus's mind raced. He had no idea how far they'd gone through the tunnels, but they were walking for half an hour at least, maybe longer - they could've gotten close to the center of town, and maybe - the dirt. All the dirt and the roots, and the creature had  _said-_

Keeper. 

_"Keep. I **did."**_

_"So tired."_

_"Red and gold."_

...the maple. 

Its aura was gone, it was  _dead,_ and this creature was-

Sportacus's breath hitched in his throat as his voice spoke again. The creature turned its glowing golden eyes back towards him, and he thought he saw something fluttering up on its back.

"You know our name?"

The tightness in his neck released. The monster let him go, just enough to move his head a tiny bit, and slowly, Sportacus shook his head. Had he full control over his body, he would've shaken it  _much_ more insistently - but he wasn't so sure if that was because he  _didn't_ know, or he thought he just might, and didn't want to believe it.

The monster bared its teeth. "No," Sportacus said. "We - no, _no_.  _We_ know  _your_ name. And sweeatheaa..." His tongue twisted inside his mouth. "... _R-r-robbie._ His name. Yours.  _Not ours."_ Faster than he could've thought possible for such a mutilated monster, it surged forward, right up to an inch from his face, and its tongue lolled out again, reek of decaying flesh filling Sportacus's nose. 

Tasting bile in the back of his throat, Sportacus croaked, "You are  _Tíu_...  _álfur, hetjan."_ A horrible rasping sound reached Sportacus's ears, and the monster turned and retched, expelling a lump of black rotting flesh and plant matter from its mouth. Lifting its head back up, its eyes narrowed, sweeping over Sportacus's face as its breaths turned to wheezes.

Up on its back, the mutated red crystal pulsed once.

On his chest, Sportacus's crystal responded.

One pulse became two, then three, then-

"You," Sportacus whispered, feeling tears prick at the corners of his eyes, "we -  _rauður -_ we  _know."_

The tears spilled over onto his cheeks.

"Lítilblá." 

A hand with claws reached out and touched Sportacus's nose, then slowly dragged downwards - not harshly enough to cut the skin - to his lips as he breathed again against his will, "Lítilblá."

_No, no, you **can't** be-_

"Once," his voice cracked. "Speak  _once,_ tell us. You know the  _name."_

The paper cuts receded, and like an  _idiot_ Sportacus didn't  _think,_ didn't think to say something that might  _free_ him or actually be  _useful,_ he just-

" _Níu??"_

The paper cuts surged back around his tongue, and he let out the only strangled whimper he could. The monster's face blurred through the tears that Sportacus couldn't even lift a hand to wipe away. 

The monster let out a ragged snort and took Sportacus's voice again, and he spat out, "No,  _not -_ _enough -_ more, there is  _more,_ give the rest! Our name!"

When the paper cuts faded this time, Sportacus was ready.

He thought of sunlight.

" _Sólarljós_ -"

The monster roared, swiping one hand out and covering Sportacus's mouth, pushing him backwards and knocking him off his feet. Slamming down into the mud, Sportacus could only struggle for a half a second before all his limbs went still, and he laid catatonic in the grime, staring wild-eyed up at the creature as its calloused, rubbery hand pressed against his lips.

With its  _own_ mouth, it rattled out a barely-understandable, " _Ngnnooooo."_

As the hand slowly withdrew, Sportacus's lips were already moving, saying in a furious tone, "We said  _do not!"_

_I'm sorry I'm sorry-_

"Give. Us. Our. Names."

_What names-_

His mind flashed back to Robbie. 

Licking his tongue over the slime and blood now coating his lips, Sportacus fought down a wave of nausea and murmured, "Gla - Glanni?"

The fluttering things on the creature's back went still. The color in its eyes changed just the slightest bit, almost blue-

But then it was gold again, and the creature's snarl was back, low and haunting in the cavern. Sportacus felt his legs curl up beneath him, and he stood up in just about the worst possible way, putting all the weight on his twisted ankle. Whatever sound he would've otherwise screamed died before ever reaching his lips, and the tears only kept falling.

He wanted to break down and  _sob,_ he couldn't -  _Íþró couldn't be-_

"One more name."

Sportacus's heart skipped a beat.

...he didn't know.

The creature accepted Glanni, accepted Níu... in whatever horrific way, those two were  _there._ But Sportacus knew both their faces well enough, and while there were pieces visible - an ear, dark hair, the shape of a brow - the  _face_ wasn't theirs. Or any mix. It was sharper in places, and softer in others, or what softness remained that hadn't been turned into stretched, warped, rotting skin.

It was  _her_ face.

It had to be.

As the maple had said, and Robbie - Robbie had  _implied,_ at least.

She was there.

They  _all_ were.

But Sportacus didn't know _her_ name. Didn't even have a hope to  _guess,_ Robbie never told him and no one else  _remembered-_

She was their face. 

Their eyes were gold and the gold was strongest in their aura-

Whatever they were  _now,_ she was their center, and Sportacus  _didn't know her name._

With a shudder, Sportacus gave the only other name he could possibly think of, even if tasted like copper on his tongue. 

"...mother."

The creature stood silently, and all Sportacus could hear was his heartbeat, and a strange sound like subwoofers in a distant room, three of them just out of synch with each other - a sound, he quickly realized, had to be  _their_ heartbeat. Heartbeats. 

_Gods, Íþró, what happened-_

"...this is our name," Sportacus said slowly. The monster moved to his right, slowly hobbling around him. Its breath on the back of his neck was freezing cold, and he felt soft moss brush against his arm. The creature -  _not a creature, not a monster, it's **Íþró** - _ circled him once, trailing roots and sinewy chords of flesh like some mangled tail. When it stopped behind him, Sportacus next felt a hand without claws press between his shoulder blades. 

It trailed downwards, and he whispered, "We... remember." 

_Remember - remember **what-**_

The hand trailed back and forth across his shoulders, scratching at the fabric.

A sharp pain burst behind Sportacus's eyes for a fraction of a second. 

Wincing against the pain, Sportacus's eyes closed, squeezing shut as images flooded his head. He could  _feel_ that they were a part of a memory, but within moments it became all too clear that the memory wasn't his own.

A house with darkened windows, an orange chair-

He thought it was Robbie's house in the grotto, for a moment, but Sportacus quickly realized that couldn't be the case, as there was a boy in the middle of the blurry memory, sitting beside the chair, hair short and messy. All Sportacus could see was the boy's back, and sprouting from between his shoulder blades-

A pair of tiny purple wings.

Sportacus felt like he'd been punched in the gut. In fact, he was pretty sure the only reason he was still breathing was because the creature was making him do so.

He couldn't see the boy's face, but he  _knew._

The hand pulled away from his back, and the touch of hissing magic behind the memory faded, but Sportacus could still see it in his mind, clear as day.

The hot breath crept up on his neck again, and in the corner of his eye he saw the creature's rotting tongue flick out just beside his ear. A growl bubbled up in Sportacus's throat and came out as a snarled, "You know."

_Robbie has wings._

_Robbie has **wings.**_

"We - us,  _gull, blár, svart_ \- we hid them. We kept him  _safe,_ but... too long,  _far_ too long." 

The monster walked around to look Sportacus in the eye. This time, a clawed hand reached out and clasped him by the chin, and another memory forced its way into his mind.

Sportacus saw through the monster's eyes - Robbie face down in the sewer, back bleeding.

"You _know,"_ Sportacus mumbled through the creature's grip.

_Oh gods, no-_

"You must be _quick_ ," he said in a sharp tone. "Too long, too late,  _sweetheart doesn't know._ Forgot wings, forgot  _us._ But you know. You took him, you know how to find him."

_Please, Íþró, don't-_

"Give him back his wings," Sportacus whispered. "Dig deep enough, you will find them.  _Free them."_

Sportacus's vision turned red.

Then the creature reared its arm back, and brought all five of its claws down against the side of his head.

His vision turned from blood-red to black.

 

* * *

 

_Soon-soon- **wings-** soon-_

They had the Sky-Blue now. Their red had started weeping again, when they dealt the blow, and some part of the gold had joined, and a little bit of the blackened-blue as well - all crying, softly, in pulses from the crystal and hoarse breaths.

But  _together_ they knew it must happen this way.

_Níu-Glanni-mother._

So.

The lying-maple was not the only who  _knew_ them after all.

It was not  _nearly_ enough.

But it was a start.

The monster turned away from the unconscious elf in the mud and disappeared down another tunnel.

 

* * *

 

Sportacus awoke with a ragged gasp. 

Scrambling upright, ignoring the lingering throbbing in his knee and ankle, he pressed his hands to his mouth, feeling over his face as he slowly realized the feeling of paper cuts was gone. Peering through the darkness, he quickly noticed that he was in the same place he'd been when the monster - his  _cousin,_ Robbie's  _mother,_ and  _Glanni -_ had knocked him unconscious.

After that, the memory came soon enough.

_Wings._

Robbie had-

And the monster  _wanted-_

Sportacus staggered to his feet, licking his tongue over his lips. The paper cuts were gone, but he was still wary as he brought his hands up in front of his face and snapped his fingers.

A faint wisp of blue fizzled and died, and Sportacus's head rushed.

He was  _exhausted._ The most he could do was retract and unsheathe his claws, and see a bit into the dark, but that was it. All his magic was depleted, and would stay that way until he ate or slept or  _healed._

About-facing in the darkness, he took a few nervous steps forward, feet still squelching in the mud.

Clearing his throat, Sportacus tried to talk, to coax his backpack into maybe giving him an apple or something, and-

-nothing.

No sound.

His ears started ringing.

...the monster still had him. It was very clearly  _elsewhere,_ but somehow it still had him.

And he was still walking, quite confidently, down the sewer, despite having  _no idea in hell how to get back to the surface._

His legs moved by instinct, reflex, and probably, the command of that creature that used to be-

Used to be-

Sportacus would've broken down in the sewer right then and there, if he had the choice.

 _Please, Íþró,_ Sportacus thought, begging into his own mind on the hunch that the creature was listening.  _Don't make me do this, don't make me hurt him-_

"It won't hurt much," Sportacus heard his voice say. "It'll  _help_ him."

His chest tightened.

There had to be a way to break free, Robbie had helped him do it before - but of course  _then,_ he hadn't been fully under its -  _their -_ control yet-

He kept walking. Between his thoughts and his pleading and the moments of blackness that blurred over his mind, Sportacus couldn't tell how long it was before he saw light, and emerged from the sewer into the grotto. Ahead of him, the wall to Robbie's house still lay in pieces, glass scattered on the floor.

Hand over hand, Sportacus climbed the ladder.

_Íþró, if you're in there at **all,** don't let them do this - let me just  **talk** to him-_

"No time."

He could squeeze his eyes shut, at least. The monster afforded him that much. 

Up through the hatch.

It was raining outside.

Peering up into the sky, Sportacus searched for any sign of the ship, praying that she was  _nowhere near-_

He ran towards town, and there she was, hovering in the sky above the gate closest to Robbie's house.

Skidding to a halt beneath her, Sportacus's hands cupped to either side of his mouth, and he shouted up, "Ladder!!"

The ship drifted downwards, and sure enough, the ladder came down.

Hand over hand, he climbed, battered by the wind and partially hoping a strong gust would come along and knock him back down to the ground. 

_Íþró, **PLEASE-**_

The door slid open as Sportacus slowly hauled himself onto the ladder platform just outside the ship.

The light inside was blindingly white, and standing there in the middle-

"...Sportacus??"

_**NO** -_

His hand brushed his damp hair away from his eyes, and he felt his face smile.

"...hey, Robbie."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, um... at least we now know what the monster wants from Robbie and Sport. 
> 
> ...I'm so sorry for what's about to happen.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder if we can break 300 comments before this part of the story ends....

"...hey, Robbie," Sportacus said, voice a bit slurred, body leaning just a bit too heavily too one side, favoring his right leg. 

And gods, the elf was  _bleeding._

Without even so much as thinking about his own injuries, Robbie limped across the ship as the door slid closed behind Sportacus and all the letters fell back to the floor. The elf wobbled, almost dazed, as Robbie reached him and grabbed him by the arm. 

"You're-" Robbie stammered. "You're not  _dead."_

Sportacus slowly gestured to the cuts on the side of his head and his one badly swollen eye. "Feels like it, though." 

Robbie laughed, high-pitched, and only just then realized he was  _touching_ Sportacus's arm. Quickly withdrawing his hand, he leaned up close to the elf's face, examining the cuts with wide eyes, shivering and not caring what  _he_ was looking like at the moment, which was probably a terrible mess. "How did you - what  _took_ you so long??" he snapped, unsure of just how much - how much  _concern_ he should be displaying.

Sportacus swept his eyes over the interior of the ship. "Hurt my leg getting free of the rebar... that thing tried to stop me," he gestured to his face again, "and I had to circle through the sewers until I lost it." _Somehow,_ Sportacus still managed to pull off a halfway convincing smile. "I'm sorry I took so long." He glanced over Robbie's bandages and said, "I see Loftskip took care of you, at least."

"Huh?" It took a moment for the name to click. "Oh, yeah, your... talking elf-ship." Shooting a glare at the ceiling, Robbie muttered, "She has the same obnoxious flair for the dramatic as you do. She could've just  _told_ me you were coming up the ladder, but  _no,_ she had to give you a slow reveal. I hate you both."

Sportacus chuckle softly, then coughed and shuffled around Robbie, moving through the scattered letters towards the nearest wall. Robbie watched him lay a hand against the paneling, and it glowed beneath his touch.

_"Sportacus. How badly are you injured?"_

The elf smiled up at the ceiling for a long time. "...not too badly. Thank you for taking care of him."

_"Do you require assistance with your wounds?"_

Sportacus shook his head. "No, I can manage. I do need something else - that thing might have followed me above ground. Please deploy ambulatory mode and scout Robbie's house in case it comes looking for us."

Robbie gave an odd look to the back of Sportacus's head. "What's an-"

 _"Sportacus, are you sure?"_ the ship interrupted.

The elf nodded. "Yes, Loftskip, I'm sure. I can take care of Robbie while you're absent."

_"...deploying ambulatory mode."_

For a moment, the hum in the ship died, and the vessel shuddered faintly. A surge of panic washed over Robbie as he feared for a moment that the ship was going to start falling, but it quickly steadied, and when the hum came back, he noticed it was significantly more...  _mechanical_ now. Before, it had fluctuations, skips and flutters like a heartbeat or a breath. Now it just felt like... well, a machine.

Eyeing Sportacus curiously, Robbie motioned to the ship with his one good hand and asked, "What was  _that_ about?"

Sportacus turned around, head tilted a bit to one side, blood still eerily caked on his face. "Loftskip has two modes. She can't inhabit both at one time, so usually she just stays here... but now that I'm back, I can control the ship for her. And she can look for the creature." 

"...not that I really care, but isn't that, I don't know,  _dangerous?"_

Sportacus smiled fondly. "Trust me, she can take care of herself."

A stillness fell between them for a moment. Robbie fidgeted on his feet, stomaching the silence for only a few seconds before he muttered, "I'm glad you're being so stoic about it, but your face is a goddamn  _mess._ Can you even  _see_ out that eye?"

"A little." 

The elf was standing so still... Robbie was  _slightly_ worried the elf was on the verge of passing out. Only slightly. Robbie wiggled his fingers, trying to coax some form of magic out of them, but the edges of his aura were frayed and  _slowly_ mending, so he wasn't going to be performing any healing magic, that was for sure. Any other form of magic was still possible, but healing took  _way_ more out of you than anything else.

Looking around the room, Robbie wondered aloud, "Where the hell does your ship keep all her first aid stuff?"

Tilting his head up, Sportacus called, "First aid kit!" and a box with a handle came shooting out of a nearby wall. Sportacus caught it with one hand and teetered as he did.

Rolling his eyes, Robbie stormed over to the elf, pointing at the nearby bed. "Sit down before you pass out, for gods' sake."

Sportacus eyed Robbie's gauze-wrapped hand and then swept his gaze over the rest of Robbie, probably noticing every little shiver and half-cough. "Robbie, I don't think you're in a condition to be-"

"It's not like I'm gonna give you  _stitches,_ I just want to get that blood off you before I have to  _look_ at it any longer," Robbie snapped defensively. "Now  _sit down,_ dammit."

Obediently, Sportacus plopped himself down on the edge of the bed, opening the first aid kit and keeping it on his lap. Sitting down beside the elf, Robbie rummaged through the kit until he found a small folded cloth and a bottle of something that was  _definitely_ alcohol, he could smell it as soon as he opened it. Too bad it probably wasn't the drinking kind.

"Well, make yourself useful, pour some of that on the cloth," Robbie ordered, feeling good for once about being able to boss around the elf,  _without_ the threat of monster-related magic involved. Sportacus did as asked and handed Robbie the cloth, and he dabbed it carefully across the elf's head, cleaning dried blood out of his hairline and and from around his swollen eye.

All the while, Sportacus kept smiling.

 

* * *

 

Sportacus wanted to  _scream._

The monster was just-

Couldn't Robbie  _tell??_  
  
Robbie's arm was hurt, when had that even  _happened -_ Sportacus would've asked as soon as he noticed, and the creature acted like all the gauze and the sling weren't even there. And sending the ship away-

He knew what the creature was doing.

"This thing did really did a number on you, holy  _shit,"_ Robbie mumbled, brow furrowing in alarm as he cleaned away layers of blood and exposed the several deep cuts in Sportacus's temple.

_Robbie, it's not me, **it's not me-!**_

"Good thing I'm faster than it," Sportacus's voice said.

_Níu!! Please!_

He felt himself frown, just a bit. A heavy weight took shape on Sportacus's chest, and he felt something crawl up the back of his spine, squeezing in places like a vice.  _Stop,_ he felt himself think,  _stop, be quiet._

_Dammit, Íþró - Glanni-_

There had to be a way.  _Some_ way. Some sign he could give Robbie, if he could just find a way to loosen the creature's grip on him-

Why was it  _smiling,_ still??

 _Be quiet, be quiet, leave us alone with him,_ he felt it think inside his head.

 _Never,_ he growled back.

He knew what it  _wanted,_ and - he wasn't  _sure,_ but he could guess the pain it would cause. 

If there was a way, he wouldn't let that happen. There were a hundred ways this could be done, and this was the  _worst._

He wouldn't let it happen.

Not to _Robbie_.

Not like this.

 

* * *

 

Robbie crinkled his nose at the deep gashes in Sportacus's head. They were only about a half a centimeter deep, but still, blood kept slowly oozing every now and again, and up close the swollen eye looked  _really_ bad. When he was younger, Robbie had a horsefly bite him just underneath the eye, and it'd nearly swollen shut - the elf looked just like that.

And of course, the elf looked ever so cheerful. Like he didn't even realize he was hurt. Maybe he'd suffered a concussion, too? "What are you so happy about?"

Sportacus shrugged. "I'm just... glad you're safe, Robbie."

Robbie scoffed. "Yeah, thanks. You know, your ship  _really_ hates that you keep diving headfirst into near-certain death. I'm told it's a genetic defect."

Sportacus's smile faltered. "You talked to Loftskip?"

"Yeah. Chatty. Kind of sassy." Robbie bit his lip. "Kind of reminds me of someone."

 _His_ mother would never have been so lenient about flipping people off, though. So there were  _some_ differences.

Sportacus glanced behind Robbie. "Did she take care of your back?"

"My what?" Robbie twisted his head around, trying to peer over his own shoulder. It took him a moment to remember... down in the sewer, before Sportacus had come... 

It still hurt.

"...Oh. That." Robbie pursed his lips. "I don't think so. I think she was more worried about my leg."

"I could take a look at it for you?" the elf offered. "Only seems fair."

Robbie hesitated. He could hear a distant, motherly voice insisting,  _never turn your back on an elf._

Robbie's jaw tensed.

Elf, schmelf. Sportacus saved his  _life,_ and he was too tired to deal with whatever cuts were on his back on his own. 

"Fair's right," Robbie muttered, "you got me  _into_ this mess in the first place when you decided to go poking around the Court forest." Shifting on the bed, Robbie turned around, handing the elf the cleaning cloth. He could tell by the cold drafts against his back that his shirt was all but torn to pieces back there, so at the very least he could count himself lucky he didn't need to - take his  _shirt_ off, or anything.

Robbie's skin still crawled, however, when he felt soft fingertips touch his skin.

 

* * *

 

Robbie turned his back on him - on  _them._

And then they -  _Sportacus -_ placed his -  _their -_ hands on his back, slowly feeling the skin around the shallow cuts. Clutching the cloth, he -  _they -_ cleaned most of the dried blood away, leaving only a few barely-there channels in the skin where the monster's claws had sunk in.

The creature made Sportacus's hands linger  _far too long_ on the shoulders, palms pressed against Robbie's clammy skin.

Sportacus's breath quickened, and in the back of his mind, he heard-

-keening.

Soft, stuttering, hitching every so often in his thoughts. A cluster of words spun through his head with the crying, an undulating wave of  _sweetheart-Robbie-home-elf-near-safe- **sorry-sweetheart-wings-so-sorry.**_

Sportacus felt his crystal pulse, its glow so faint it barely cast a light onto Robbie's back.

The voices cracked and almost wept, and Sportacus felt his eyes joining them.

Sportacus's arms tensed, then relaxed.

His heart leaped into his throat.

... _his_ arms.

Not theirs. Not their puppet limbs.

_His._

His mouth hung open for a fraction of a second, and he knew  _that_ was where their focus was - they still feared he might speak, might warn Robbie in that way, might try to cast some spell with what power he had left.

All their focus was on his voice, or on Robbie.

And Sportacus's hands were _his_ again, if for only a moment. 

He did the only thing he could think to do, that  _might_ give Robbie a half a chance.

Putting every ounce of strength he could into his arms, he shoved.

 

* * *

 

It almost didn't fully register with Robbie that the elf had  _pushed_ him away until he almost slid off the bed. 

Snapping around, he leveled the hunched-over Sportacus with a dark glare.

"The hell is your problem, elf??"

 

* * *

 

He was sitting there, with them. Not screaming, not trying to fight, or run.

The gold was the one that started weeping first, and the blackened-blue followed shortly.

The red wept with them - it had no choice.

They were so close,  _so close-_

And then.

_Then._

They lost focus. 

The Sky-Blue was smarter, and all of a sudden, sweetheart was  _away,_ glaring at them,  _not close enough-_

**_WHAT DID YOU DO-_**

The sky-blue was laughing in his head.

 

* * *

 

"Fuck," Sportacus whispered under his breath.

Robbie paled. "Sportacus-"

Sportacus looked up at him.

Tears were streaming down his face, and the crystal-

The crystal started  _screaming._

And that was when Robbie saw the claws slip out.

 

* * *

 

_ROBBIE, IT'S NOT ME, RUN-_

 

* * *

 

"Sportacus-" Robbie stood and backed away from the bed, almost stumbling. The way the elf stood, letting the first aid kit fall off his lap and clatter to the floor - the way he bared his  _teeth,_ and his eyes were desperately wide, expression so deformed and mismatched, and tears kept pouring down his cheeks-

And the _claws_.

Sportacus held his arms out at his sides, claws emerging slowly. "Robbie," he said in a voice that was  _too damn quiet,_ "calm down."

"Calm down?!" Robbie shrieked. "You - you  _pushed_ me and you've got your  _claws_ out and - no, I'm not gonna fucking  _calm down!_ What the hell are you doing??"

The elf took a step forward. Robbie took one back, holding out his hand. "No, stay away -  _stay away from me,_ elf," Robbie hissed.

"Robbie."

"I said _stay the fuck away from me."_

"Robbie, just listen to me-" the elf didn't finish that sentence.

Instead, he lunged _._

 

* * *

 

Loftskip had not used her auxiliary body in a  _long_ time.

Treading silently through the short grass around Lazytown, she tested the flexibility of her limbs - forgiving a few creaks here and there, they seemed to be in optimal condition. Her diagnostics of her interior mechanisms all came back with acceptable parameters of function, and of course, the cabochon elf crystal on her chest maintained a steady glow. 

...still, she couldn't quite manage to  _enjoy_ the mobility the ground mode afforded. All her sensors were sweeping her surroundings, keeping a watch for movement, and the remainder of her mobile AI was replaying her short conversation with Sportacus.

There was something...  _off._ Her systems had produced an error alert shortly after she finished reassignment to her ground mode.

However, as she reviewed her memory, she couldn't tell  _what_ had triggered the alert. Aside from obvious physical injuries, Sportacus seemed psychologically intact, his crystal wasn't broken, and he was  _still_ forcing a charade of cheeriness despite what he and Robbie had just gone through.

Heroes. One day they would be the death of her.

_"I see Loftskip took care of you, at least."_

_"Yes, Loftskip, I'm sure. I can take care of Robbie while you're absent."_

Her assessment feeds hadn't liked either of those sentences, but why?

Perhaps there was some lingering hardcoding in her systems, back from her factory days, when all elf-ships were installed with basic anti-fae protocols. She thought Íþró had scrubbed those codes clean from her core processor, but there was a chance that the error was simply a matter of her systems disliking Sportacus's affection for Robbie. 

...no, no. If there was hardcoding still affecting her, she would have objected more strongly when Sportacus insisted that she protect Robbie in his absence.

Her error scans were picking up on something else. 

His tone was quiet, but he was obviously exhausted-

He stumbled as he walked, but clearly he was hurt.

 _Why_ was the alert triggered-

Halfway through her second loop around Robbie's house, she stopped cold in her tracks.

_He said-_

Loftskip about-faced and sprinted back towards the ship. 

 

* * *

 

They were slipping.

The monster was slipping, and Sportacus could tense his arm  _just enough_ for their first swipe at Robbie to swing wide, catching the fringe of his bangs instead of his head. 

 _STTTOP THIS,_ he could hear them screeching,  _LET - LET - LET US HELP HIM-_

 _Not like this,_ he snarled back,  _not like this._

**_Lítilblá-_ **

The word caught him off guard, and this time the blow struck true.

Sportacus grabbed onto Robbie's arm, wrenched backwards, and they both went tumbling down onto the floor.

 

* * *

 

The sling around his right arm made it  _impossible_ for Robbie to defend himself as the elf grabbed his other arm, yanking him off balance, and threw him down onto the floor. Letters flew around them as he impacted, and the elf for once towered over him, crouched down and pinning Robbie's arm underneath his knee. 

Furious tears ebbed from Robbie's eyes.

"Fuck you,  _fuck you,_ I  _knew_ I couldn't trust you!" Robbie spat, voice cracking. The words barely made it out of his mouth - the worst of it was, he  _did_ trust the elf, trusted him and  _wanted_ to trust him and thought it was  _safe_ to be near him and clearly it wasn't and his mother was  _right-_

Somewhere, Robbie heard the very small logical part of his brain call him an idiot, and he so desperately wanted to believe it, this  _couldn't_ be Sportacus, but who the hell  _else_ could he be-

"Robbie," the elf's voice strained, "just - stay  _still-"_

The claws were  _so close_ to Robbie's face, and then they moved past his head, and the elf started to turn him over onto his stomach-

A metallic groan rumbled through the air, and the ship listed sharply to the side, and kept tipping until Robbie felt gravity pull him down the rapidly increasing slope of the floor.

The elf's eyes went wide, and he looked away from Robbie for half a second.

Robbie thrust his knee up into Sportacus's stomach. The elf let out a croaking gasp, and he let go of Robbie's arm, but they were still  _sliding-_

The ship leveled out suddenly, but by now the elf was at least four feet away, struggling to keep a grip on the floor, claws digging into the white panels.

_"Robbie!"_

Robbie didn't think he'd ever be so damn glad to hear the ship's voice. Scrambling backwards across the floor, he tried to shout something, tell the ship what was happening, but all that came out was a garbled mess of sound that was halfway to a scream.

 _"Robbie, move!"_ the ship shouted. Robbie did as he was told, trying desperately to keep the distance between himself and the elf, but Sportacus was already standing again, shaking his head, staring at Robbie with a predatory snarl and tears still staining his face-

The elf lunged again, and the ship creaked, and two slits opened up - one on the ceiling, one in the floor - and Robbie watched the elf impact with something sheer and transparent that  _very much_ had not been there a second ago. Not only did the elf  _stop,_ all sound cut off from that half of the ship, save for a dull  _thud, thud_ as the elf pounded against the - glass? Plastic? 

Slumping on the floor, Robbie stared up at the ceiling and shakily whispered, "T-thank you."

 _"I should not have left to begin with,"_ the ship said.  _"I was a fool."_

Robbie coughed. "What??"

 _"I should have seen it the moment he came back,"_ she said.  _"That is not Sportacus."_

 

* * *

 

The creature let out a roar through Sportacus's voice as the ship's plexiglass interior walls came surging up between Robbie and Sportacus. Slamming against the clear panes, Sportacus banged his fists against them, feeling a mix of distress and anger and desperation, and entirely on his own, vast relief. Behind the glass, Robbie stared up at him from the floor, shaking like a leaf and - crying.

The three voices were crying in fury, too, but the one voice they controlled was just -  _angry._

"Loftskip," Sportacus demanded, "let me through-"

 _"Sportacus has not called me by that name since Íþró went missing,"_ the ship said with a digital whir that Sportacus knew was her version of a snarl.

Behind the plexiglass, Sportacus saw Robbie's eyes go wide. 

Oh, how he wished he could smile right now. Of course Íþró would call her that and of  _course_ he wouldn't know Sportacus  _didn't-_

_Thank you, ship, **thank you-**_

_"You are not Sportacus,"_ the ship continued icily.  _"Your behavior leads me to believe you are..."_  Her voice hesitated. _"...someone else, but you **cannot** be." _

On the other side of the glass, Robbie slowly stood up, eyeing the ceiling and moving his mouth. Sportacus couldn't hear what he was saying, but all he could hope was that Robbie was realizing that Sportacus was exactly what the ship said he was -  _someone else._

His voice was still struggling to convince them otherwise, though. 

"Ship, I need to get to Robbie."

 _"You will be doing no such thing,"_ the ship stated.  _"Sportacus is my elf now. If you are who I suspect you may be, you can no longer command me."_

Sportacus let himself wonder if Íþró was happy about this, too.

 

* * *

 

"What do you mean, that's not-"

Robbie cut himself off halfway.

...the monster had take Sportacus down in the sewer.

Robbie squinted through the glass as the ship spoke to the elf on the other side, warily keep at least a foot of space between himself and the elf despite the barrier between them, and he blinked twice. 

His aura vision was blurry, but it worked well enough.

Blue, and white, that was all normal-

-Robbie was an  _idiot._

Flashing angrily around Sportacus's crystal were splinters of an aura in red and blue and black and gold.

The first thing Robbie felt was utter, shameless relief; Sportacus  _hadn't_ turned on him.

That relief lasted for only a second before slowly warping into horror.

The monster  _had Sportacus._

It was like at the maple, when the creature first appeared, only this time, Sportacus hadn't been able to keep it at bay and Robbie hadn't been able to  _help_ in time and now the elf was  _taken_ and trying to - what, kill Robbie??

Why had the monster been pretending that everything was  _fine??_

_"-If you are who I suspect you may be, you can no longer command me."_

Robbie frowned at the glass barrier. "...ship? What are you - are you talking about the monster??"

She was quiet for a moment.

_"...I fear I might be. And I fear the monster may not be what we thought it was."_

Well, that didn't really come as a surprise - they didn't even know what it was to begin with. Still, at the sound of the ship's tentative words, Robbie's mind raced to a sickening conclusion that he promptly buried deep, deep down near the base of his skull, because that theory was  _lies_ and he couldn't let himself believe it was true... and besides, he had bigger problems at the moment.

The elf had started pacing on the other side of the glass.

And he wasn't even trying to pretend to be Sportacus anymore.

 

* * *

 

Sportacus felt the growl in his throat before he heard it. His body hunched over, claws still unsheathed, as he started to pace the length of the plexiglass. The way the monster was baring Sportacus's teeth, the way he cocked his head to the side... it fell more and more like the way the monster behaved in its  _own_ body, and Sportacus realized with a start that they had given up on the charade.

He dragged his claws across the glass, and saw Robbie flinch.

Now - the creature in his body was testing the barrier.

The monster was two-thirds fae.

If there was a  _single_ flaw in the barrier, they would find it and carve through it until the barrier gave way, and with his cousin helping them, maybe against his will, maybe not... and how much of any individual will was even left inside them? Was it three fighting against each other until one won out against the others, or was their mind one and the same, bits and pieces cobbled together to form something else entirely?

Sportacus couldn't begin to guess.

All he knew was they were  _there._ In memory or still as themselves, they were the monster and he could feel they still wanted Robbie's wings to be freed.

A part of Sportacus wanted to help them.

But he knew this wasn't the way.

_Ship, keep me away from him, please._

His claws scraped the glass.

 

* * *

 

Robbie dragged his hand through his hair. "What are we supposed to  _do_ about him??"

_"I don't know."_

"How long does it last?" Robbie babbled, mostly thinking out loud, partially hoping an idea might bounce off the ship and create something resembling a plan. "How can it control him from a distance? Is it - does he know what's going on, is he still  _in_ there?? Or-" He didn't say it out loud, but the ugly thought occurred to him; maybe Sportacus was dead and this body was just a puppet-

-no.

No, that wouldn't explain the shove. Or the tears.

Robbie had to believe Sportacus was still inside his own head, fighting the monster's influence, like he did when it first tried to control him.

"Fuck!!" Robbie spat, turning and slumping against the glass, tears leaking from his eyes. He could still hear the elf tapping on the other side, but Robbie couldn't stomach looking at him anymore, that face wasn't Sportacus anymore and the snarl was too much like an animal and the aura was too damn bright.

"... _fuck,"_ Robbie whispered weakly again. "This wouldn't have happened if he hadn't come for me-"

 _"This is not your fault,"_ the ship cut in firmly.  _"If it is anyone's fault, it is the fault of Íþró, Glanni, and your mother."_

Robbie's head snapped up. "You - what the fuck are you talking about??" he hissed, as if the thought wasn't already swimming in his head, blackening out all other possibilities because this one was the only one that made any kind of twisted sense-

_"Only Íþró would call me Loftskip. And it would explain that... creature's interest in you and Sportacus."_

"Shut  _up-"_

It had her face.

Sportacus had said, what, not even a week and a half ago, that the maple  _did_ something.

 _Kept_ something. Kept it  _buried._

He went looking for  _hours,_ that night, and he'd thought they just -  _killed each other-_

It had his mother's face, a red crystal on its back... a broken wing all blue and black, and claws and teeth and an  _aura-_

A sob wracked Robbie's frame.

"It  _can't_ be them," he croaked. "They  _died-"_

 _"What other explanation is there?"_ the ship asked quietly. 

"I don't know!!" Robbie slammed his fist back against the glass. "Honestly, I don't fucking care!! I don't care if it's - if - if it's  _them,_ it doesn't matter! I don't know what they  _want_ or why they keep fucking coming  _back_ or why they did this to Sportacus, and I don't know how to help him and that's the only thing that matters right now and I  _don't know how to fix it!!"_

_"...I do not know, either."_

Robbie hung his head down and let another cracking sob slip free. 

* * *

 

Sportacus couldn't hear Robbie through the glass, but he could see the shuddering of the man's shoulders.  His heart ached, but he reminded himself that Robbie was safe, Robbie was safe from  _him-_

His hands pressed up behind Robbie's back, fingers curling behind his shoulders.

"Sweetheart..." his voice croaked. 

**_Wings-free-YOU-RUINED-THIS-HE'S-STILL-HURTING-_ **

His fist slammed against the glass.

**_YOUR FAULT-_ **

Another slam.

Sportacus lifted one arm up near his face, and he thought the monster would keep slamming, but instead-

It made him tear off his gauntlet and bite down on his forearm, hard enough to pierce the skin and draw blood.

The pain shot through his arm, and the monster released him, and growled with his voice, "Your fault, your fault,  _now you hurt."_

In his head, Sportacus screamed.

 

* * *

 

Robbie turned around as soon as the slamming stopped, and he heard the ship exclaim,  _"Sportacus, what are you doing??"_

He wasn't sure  _what_ he was expecting to see on the other side of the glass, but seeing the elf  _bite into his own arm_ was not high on the list. In fact, it wasn't even a  _possibility,_ but the elf was doing it all the same, blood staining his teeth and eyes harsh and wild.

Pressing a now bloody palm to the glass, Sportacus snarled, "He stopped us."

Robbie's stomach bottomed out. 

"Now," the not-Sportacus continued, "he  _hurts._ He hurts, or you come to us."

Sportacus dragged his claws down the length of his left arm.

Robbie smacked the glass. "Hey!" he shrieked in mounting horror. "Stop it!! Stop!" Staring wide-eyed at the ceiling, he begged, "Ship, can't you  _do_ something?? Make him stop!!"

The ship careened sharply to one side. The elf stumbled, but bit into the side of his palm anyway, still staring coldly at Robbie and whispered as he pulled back with bloody teeth, "Come to us."

_"Robbie, I do not think there is anything I can do-"_

The elf's aura was flashing. Try as the monster might to hide the real Sportacus, it couldn't hide  _that._ The elf's crystal was wailing, too-

Robbie gasped sharply.

-the  _crystal._

All the aura splinters around it, all the colors-

_That can't be it-_

"Ship??" 

_"Robbie, I cannot do anything-"_

He shook his head frantically. "No, no - how do elf crystals work??"

_"I do not understand the relevance-"_

"Just tell me!!" Robbie pleaded, watching in pained horror as the elf staggered to his feet and slammed his bleeding fist against the glass again, hard enough to deliver an audible  _crack_ that Robbie feared might have been a bone in the elf's knuckles or wrist.

_"...the crystals are like fae wings. They are a part of us, and if an elf is separated from their crystal they become severely handicapped magically. You stole Sportacus's crystal once, you may remember his inability to sense danger."_

Robbie grimaced. Yes, he remembered that little plot... "How connected is his crystal to his aura??"

_"As I said, they are part of us-"_

"If something wanted to take control of an elf," Robbie shouted, " _could they do it through his crystal??"_

The ship went terrifyingly quiet. In the throes of an almost-coherent panic, Robbie didn't bother waiting for an answer, and started unraveling his sling. If he was right, if he was going to  _do_ something about this, he was going to need both arms and a lot of idiotic courage and probably some effort, and he didn't like the fact that he was  _extremely willing_ to commit to both those prospects.

 _"...I am a fool,"_ the ship intoned.  _"If someone knew an elf's crystal well enough, they could take control that way, but usually no outsiders know... but Íþró was the one who made Sportacus's crystal."_

That was it.

Robbie prodded the soft cast on his wrist, hoping it would hold up and not damage his arm further. Snapping his fingers, he saw a few hopeful sparks of purple spiral through the air before vanishing under the force of his hyperventilating breaths.

_This is a terrible idea this is a terrible idea-_

"Ship," Robbie squeaked, then cleared his throat. "Ship, drop the barrier."

_"Robbie, I cannot-!"_

"I think I can  _save_ him, dammit!! Drop the fucking barrier before they make him  _kill_ himself!!"

The ship went silent.

The glass dropped.

 

* * *

 

Sportacus saw the shimmer of the glass disappear.

_ROBBIE, NO-!_

 

* * *

 

_**Sweetheart-wings-COME-TO-US-** _

 

* * *

 

Robbie dove for the elf's leg's first, wrapping both arms around them and rolling to the side. The elf let out a guttural screech as Robbie brought him down, and before the elf had a chance to recover, Robbie scrambled onto his knees and pushed down on the elf's shoulder with the elbow of his injured arm. Pressing his other hand into the elf's face, he shouted in fae,  _"Choke!"_

Three loops of purple shot from his fingers and wrapped around the elf's throat. Sportacus's eyes went wide as they started to contract, and both the elf's arms went up to his throat, clawing at the strings to try and pry them off his neck. 

In those split seconds, Robbie straddled the elf's flailing legs, fighting with all limited strength in his body to keep the  _elf_ down as his free hand struggled to pry the flashing crystal out of the elf's chest.

The moment his fingers curled around the wailing crystal, a flash of multicolored light exploded at his face, and Sportacus's whole body seized with a bloodcurdling scream. 

"Sportacus, fucking - hold still,  _please!!"_ Robbie yelled, desperately twisting the crystal out of its casing. Through his aura sense he could see the invading colors pulled with the crystal, and part of Sportacus's aura with it - the cause of the elf's pain, he realized in shock. 

The monster was trying to pull Sportacus's aura away from his  _fucking body._

_OH, like fuck are you doing this to him-!_

With one deft movement, Robbie tore the crystal free, feeling it burn into his palm as Sportacus bucked underneath him. Recalling all his magic back into himself, Robbie shoved himself away from Sportacus as the strings disintegrated from his throat.

The burning on his palm grew too much. With a screech, Robbie threw the crystal across the ship.

It landed in a pile of letters near the foot of the bed, still flashing like a tiny incandescent hurricane. 

Sportacus was still screaming, and within a half a second Robbie saw why.

The parasite colors in the crystal were erupting from inside it, amorphous and ghostly, surging through the air back towards Robbie and the screaming elf.

 _"Shadow!"_ Robbie screamed in fae, flat on the ground, holding out his hand in panic.

All the shadows from the corners of the ship swarmed the crystal, and Robbie focused on every memory he had of Glanni shadowstepping, and his one awful attempt at it. The dark blotches circled the crystal and its maddened colors, weaving around it in layers upon layers. Straining against the ringing in his ears and the sound of Sportacus still screaming, Robbie clenched his hand so hard his fingernails dug into his skin.

The shadows cinched around the crystal like a dark cocoon.

A single concussive wave burst through the air. 

The crystal's wailing stopped.

Behind him, Robbie heard the screaming cut off with a strangled, shuddering gasp.

Then everything went still.

 

* * *

 

Deep within the sewer, they felt their connection  _snap._

.  
**_._**  
**_N̶̛̫̪͚͈̺̯̩̭͙͖̂͆͂̃̀̚͡O̴̧̧̯̬͚̩̔̔̈̊͗̓̚͝Õ̹̜̣̱̥̟͎̮̓͑̅̀͢͡ͅƠ̵͓̠͔̰̺͗̔͑͋͗̿̕͘Õ̶͕̣̻̠͕͔͔̺͓̀͐́͛͘͞O̸͙̘͖̰͗͐̒͗̓̏͟͟͡!̷͔̫̗͖̻͉͔̽̀̐͊̈͢͜͟!̷̢̰͇̝̈́͊̾͂͌̌̚͢!̵̪̼̤̩̯͎̺̮͕͊̄͂̽̆͟_**  
.  
.

Purple - sweetheart -  _Robbie -_ his wings were still  _trapped._

_We failed._

_We **failed.**_

Their howl shook the tunnels.

 

* * *

 

Robbie quickly realizes his ears were bleeding in the wake of whatever that concussive pulse was. 

A series of coughs forced their way out of his lungs as he lay curled up on the ground, and only once his body was done having its wheezing fit did he slowly lift himself back up to sitting, leaning on his bandaged arm for support.

"Sportacus...?" Robbie said weakly.

As his vision cleared, he found the elf lying on the floor, both hands pressed into his eyes, shaking. Robbie inched forward slowly, reaching out and touching the elf's leg. "Sportacus, are you-?"

The elf's leg pulled back from Robbie suddenly, and he lurched upward with a sharp whine. Tears stained his cheeks and his teeth were covered in red, and both his arms were bleeding from too many cuts and bite marks to count, and the elf wouldn't stop  _shaking-_

Robbie shifted to kneeling. "Sportacus..." When he reached out to try and touch the elf again, Sportacus finally looked his way, and immediately shrank back, pushing himself up against the wall, wide-eyed.

"...Robbie," Sportacus croaked, holding out a bleeding arm. "Don't - don't, I don't want to hurt you-"

The alarm growing in Robbie's heart disappeared as a wave of exhausted relief washed over him.

It was Sportacus. It  _had_ to be, the crystal was muffled in the corner, surrounded by fairy shadows-

"Sportacus, it's gone." Robbie realized he was probably not being very convincing, but he was too tired to care about how his voice was shaking as he crawled closer to the elf. "You're you again. I think."

"Robbie, don't come near me, I might-" The elf cradled his head in his hands, smearing more blood in his hair and not seeming to notice. "Gods, Robbie, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't - I didn't want - it wasn't me, you have to believe me! I'd never - I'd never hurt you-"

Robbie eased around the side of Sportacus, nervously reaching up and moving one of the elf's hands away from his face.

"I know," Robbie whispered, sniffing as snot or maybe blood trickled down from his nose, "I know it wasn't you."

"Gods, Robbie, if they'd hurt you - I  _know_ they were just trying to help but that's not the  _way-"_

Robbie frowned at the nonsense spouting from the elf. "...what do you mean, they were trying to help?"

Sportacus's eyelids fluttered, and his head slumped down until his cheek came to rest against Robbie's hand. "Robbie-"

Robbie didn't really know how it happened. In hindsight he probably blacked out for a very short while, but somehow in the span of a few seconds, he managed to tug the elf closer, and crumble against the wall, and Sportacus ended up in his arms and both his arms were wrapped around Robbie's waist and the elf's head was tucked into Robbie's right shoulder and he couldn't really tell who was sobbing worse-

"You have _wings_ ," Sportacus croaked into Robbie's shoulder, just loud enough for Robbie to hear. "That's all they wanted, that's all they care about, you have wings and they want you to remember them..."

Robbie wasn't sure if he was hallucinating. It  _felt_ like he was passing out, maybe he was already asleep and dreaming.

"Sportacus, that doesn't - I don't have-" He couldn't even form a sentence through the hiccuping sobs.

Sportacus clung to him tighter.

"You have wings, Robbie," Sportacus whispered as the cabin lights went dark around them, and all they could hear was the rain pounding on the walls outside. "You have wings."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I s2g y'all think I'm so cruel... I mean you're kind of right but I'm too much of a softie to be THAT mean to the boys i love them too much
> 
> ...these boys still need more hugs and a LOT of chocolate/sportscandy and possibly also booze


	15. Chapter 15

Hey this is um.

This is not really a chapter update and might get removed at a later date but... I accidentally deleted my entire tumblr account.

Everything, including my Lazytown sideblog, is gone. I had that account for at least 3 years and I have never been more mad at myself.

If anyone is interested, any readers who have a tumblr account, I remade my Lazytown blog: <https://sportatiddy.tumblr.com/>

I also remade my main blog, [Teejay-Kaye](https://teejay-kaye.tumblr.com/) if anyone is interested in that, too. 

I know this is probably really stupid and desperate but hey, whatever works. I'm sure some of you came to this fic from my blog and I'm so sorry for being so stupid as to delete it.

Thanks for sticking with me. I love everyone who reads this.


	16. Chapter 16

How could they  _fail??_

They struck against the tunnel wall, shoulder and neck and head until they bled blood and sap from too many places that healed halfway shut and then grew over with moss and roots and  _stayed._

_We promised - we promised-_

It was barely on the tip of their tongue, the edge of - of  _some_ part of their mind.

A promise colored Purple.

_Only for a little while, we promise-_

But they were  _liars_ and  _cowards_ and the wings stayed hidden and they  _failed._

_And we-_

The Sky-Blue fought them, of course he did, hadn't they - he -  _ **we** - _ _ **you** - _ taught him to do just that??

And all they could think of were wings and Purple and the Red had screamed and drowned inside and still wouldn't stop weeping-

_We hurt - we hurt-_

They failed the Purple and they hurt the Sky-Blue.

_Failed... s-s-sweetheart._

_Hurt... Tíu... Li-Li-Li-_

_- **Lítilblá** -_

**_-Robbie-_ **

Failed.

Failed and lost and still didn't know  _why,_ they remembered the promise and the  _pain_ but not why any of that  _mattered-_

There was a  _reason_ they cared, a reason they wanted the names from the Sky-Blue -  _ **Lítilblá -**_ and a reason they wanted to see Purple's -  _ **Robbie's -**_ wings free again, safe and free and all there and all alive. 

The memory was gone, gone and scattered through the lumps of crystal and the twisted roots weaving through their muscles and bones, and each time they tried to  _think_ the thoughts got lost between one - two -  _three-_

They were too many at once, not enough space and there were  _three_ and they still didn't know which name was  _which._

They failed.

They made things  _hurt._

Slamming their head against the concrete, they screamed, and they tried to weep, but their lidless eyes could only glow and stare and try to find the answers in the cracks on the walls.

 

* * *

 

 

"You have wings, Robbie. You have wings."

It had been a long time since Loftskip had heard her elf cry. The last time he had been only a boy, distraught in the face of the certainty that his cousin would never reply to another letter, never come home to teach him or read to him or muss his hair. 

Now, crumpled in the arms of a shaking, hiccuping half-fae, Sportacus was crying because of his cousin once again... only this time it was so, so much worse.

Loftskip dimmed the cabin lights as she heard their cries go quiet. It took a shorter time than she expected, but exhaustion caught up to them soon enough. Sportacus passed out first, arms still bleeding and crystal crying for him in the corner, wrapped in fairy shadows. Robbie managed to stay awake for a little while longer, eyes half-lidded, awkwardly shifting under the weight of the catatonic Sportacus in his lap.

But sure enough, sleep claimed the both of them, and Lofstkip allowed herself a short moment of relief.

Her outward scans quietly presented images of something dark and lopsided heaving its way out of the hatch of Robbie's house. 

She kept the ship high above the ground as it paced beneath them.

_Alert Admin_SPRCS10 - Y/N_

_Y/ **No**_

Her boys were asleep and the creature had taken enough from them already.

It would _not_ take this. 

 

* * *

 

 

Sportacus woke to a darkened ship and rain still hammering against the walls. Shaken awake by a distant clap of thunder, he rolled over with every nerve firing off warnings of  _danger-_

_"Sportacus, you are safe."_

Shuddering, he looked up at the ceiling, and a single light came on with the sound of her voice. Rubbing his eyes, he felt something chafe against his chin, and he furrowed his brow at his arm curiously. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he discovered both his arms and hands were bandaged, and when he lifted a hand to the side of his head he felt stitches.

Curiously, he was still on the floor, and Robbie was still curled up next to him, sleeping and snoring quietly.

Sportacus let out a heavy, shaking sigh.

"...thanks, ship. For everything." He ground his knuckles into his eyes. "Especially for keeping him safe from me."

_"It wasn't you."_

No... no, it wasn't.

Fighting off a fresh wave of tears, Sportacus craned his head back and whispered, "It's - that thing - it's  _them,_ ship. All of them. It's his mother, it's Glanni, it's... it's  _Íþró,_ ship."

 _"...I suspected,"_ she said quietly.  _"Since you fell asleep I have been going through my data banks regarding fae and elf magic and its interactions. I have not found any reference to similar magical conditions between elves and fae specifically, and the closest analog I could find was that of the alchemic homunculous, but there are certain dissimilarities... I am afraid I do not know if there is a way to save them."_

Save them?

The ship was optimistic, but maybe that was for the best. So far Sportacus wasn't even sure if there was even a way to keep himself and Robbie safe from... from their family. From the monster. What the  _hell_ was he supposed to call it -  _them -_ now??

The only scrap of hope Sportacus was holding onto came from the fact that he didn't think it...  _they_ were necessarily... malicious.

Confused, angry, maybe a bit bloodthirsty, but they'd been inside his head. 

He'd heard them screaming,  _crying,_ even as they drove him to attack Robbie, and maim himself.

"Gods, ship," Sportacus whispered, "how am I supposed to tell Robbie?"

 

* * *

 

 

The ship refrained from mentioning that she'd heard Robbie's breathing change, and she was quite sure the man was already awake, at least a little bit.

 _"I suspect he may already know,"_ she simply said.

 

* * *

 

 

Robbie was barely on the cusp of being awake, disturbed when the elf had moved away from him, but he was awake enough to hear Sportacus whispering softly to the ship.

He didn't want to hear what the elf was saying.

He didn't want to  _know._

Trying not to listen, Robbie kept his eyes shut and tried to force himself back into sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

Looking across the ship, Sportacus crossed his legs and hunched over, rubbing the bandages on his arms as he warily regarded the currently inert crystal on the other side of the room. Robbie's fairy shadows had dissolved slightly, just enough for Sportacus to see the pale fluttering light of his crystal,  _his crystal,_ the thing that was as much a part of him as a fae's - as  _Robbie's_ wings.

Robbie had wings, and didn't even know.

What was that  _like,_ for a fairy?

Sportacus had the distant feeling that it felt a bit like he did now; anxious, restless, wanting  _something_ but not knowing what. He'd always been able to  _trust_ his crystal, trust it to know when there was danger, trust it to keep a watch on him when Sportacus or the ship were distracted, and now all he could think as he looked at it was nauseated caution.

Was it still... infected?

Could he ever touch it again, or would the monster's thoughts come surging back, taking over his aura and his body and forcing him to hurt people-

Maybe Robbie's shadows had freed it from the monster.

Maybe Robbie's shadows hadn't done anything but make them both  _forget_ about the problem for a little while.

Sportacus knew a handful of facts, truths - if he just kept his mouth shut, the monster couldn't  _take_ him all the way. The crystal needed names, voices, words - that was how it got to know the children, got to know their auras, every time they said his name and let the crystal  _in_ just that little bit. If Sportacus could just _concentrate,_ like he had at the maple, he could hold the creature at bay.

But if it surprised him, if it made him utter a single  _sound-_

It would  _have_ him. 

Sportacus glanced over his shoulder at the lanky man curled up on his ship's floor.

...Robbie had saved him. Again.

What had Sportacus ever done for Robbie, aside from cause him pain?

Sure, he  _tried_ to save him, but that just landed them  _here_ and in more pain then they started, and maybe Robbie was right all along, and maybe Sportacus  _was_ the reason the monster was a problem now, and-

_"Sportacus. Breathe."_

He sucked in a breath and grit his teeth in dull, seething anger.

_Not this again..._

Why was he so  _useless?_

He hadn't saved his cousin the first time, and he didn't know if there was a way to save him  _now,_ and more importantly the thing he worried  _most_ about protecting probably hated him and would never trust him again.

Sliding back to the wall slowly, Sportacus leaned back and slowly reached a hand out towards Robbie's face as he let out another snore. Brushing the man's wayward bangs away from his closed eyes, Sportacus noted that the hint of eye shadow Robbie wore was smudged and almost gone from the rain, and he had a cut on his lower lip, but for once he almost looked - well, peaceful.

"I'm sorry, Robbie," Sportacus whispered. 

There were other things he wanted to say, but this wasn't the time, or the place, and he probably didn't deserve to say them, and they most  _certainly_ wouldn't be welcome. He didn't dare say them even when Robbie was fast asleep.

_I never wanted to hurt you, I hate seeing you in pain-_

_I care about you-_

_I think I lo-_

Sportacus curled up a good three feet away from Robbie, watching the uneven rise and fall of his chest, listening to the snores and the coughs, and sometimes the shivers.

 _"Go back to sleep, Sportacus,"_ the ship urged.  _"I will keep you both safe."_

Sportacus closed his eyes.

"He'll never trust me again, will he?" Sportacus murmured.

The ship was quiet.

_"I think you should have more faith in Robbie, litla hetjan mín."_

'Hero'.

Sportacus closed his eyes.

He didn't  _feel_ very heroic.

Out of habit, as his consciousness drifted, he reached out an arm to Robbie, touching his shoulder just - just to make sure he was still there.

The rain drowned out his heartbeat soon enough.

 

* * *

 

 

Robbie was almost all the way to sleep when he felt the elf touch his shoulder.

He  _thought_ he tried to bat the hand away, but in all the hazy fatigue, he must've missed.

The elf's hand was warm.

Sleep claimed him in seconds.

 

* * *

 

 

Loftskip listened until their breathing told her they were asleep.

She took note of the fact that in their sleep, their hands were half intertwined together, and silently instructed one of her personal cameras to record the sight. She had a feeling a fonder memory of tonight might be useful in the future.

Directing her scans outward again, she drifted over Lazytown as the rain came pouring down. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was a wild ride, wasn't it? 
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading and leaving such amazing, wonderful comments, they really are the highlight of my day and the reason I put so much time into this story.
> 
> (Also, something I lost when the account got deleted was an ask from a reader with synesthesia. I know they read Goblin Men, I don't know who they were or if the ask was on anon or what, but if you are still reading this story, I would love to get in contact with you again. That ask was the best thing I've ever had someone say to me about my writing and I'm so sorry for losing it.)
> 
> Fear not, you haven't seen the last of me or this story: next up is a oneshot called "Only The Horses Can Find Us Tonight" and more to follow after that.
> 
> Additional bit of curiosity: a couple friends suggested this to me, but I have trouble finding the motivation to write my own original stories, since of course I don't put them online much or have people reading them and giving feedback. 
> 
> If I were to put some of my original work onto, say, FictionPress, would any of you be interested in giving it a look? I know a lot of you seem to really like my writing in the fic, so I wanted to offer you the chance to read some of the original things I'm working on that will hopefully be published in some form one day.
> 
> Anybody interested in that?


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